His Memories
by Veritas2
Summary: Ginny has made a promise to protect the memories of a dear friend, but will her relationship with Draco put those memories at risk?
1. Default Chapter

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**A/N:** This was going to be a one shot story, but I'm making it longer. Yes, the first chapter will reveal who the diary is, it you haven't guessed. Please, tell me what you think, and thanks for reading. Thank you to Thank you to Cezanne, and Julie for betaing the prologue. Your advice was invaluable.

**His Memories **

**Prologue **

_You know, I spend my days hiding, and never know what to do with myself.  
If I only had a [diary] every now and then...   
~The Baron in the Trees, Italo Calvino_

~*~ 

I swear, if I have to read one more letter from my brother telling me why I should "dump Malfoy on his arse" I'm going to quit calling myself a Weasley. 

_Good morning to you too._

Well, maybe I wouldn't go that far, but ever since Hermione finished her Auror training, she and Ron have become more paranoid. There are times I just wish his fiancée would stop talking to him about her job altogether. 

_I'm sure it's not as bad as you say. I can't imagine Hermione letting her emotions control her._

It's not Hermione really, it's Ron, and he sent me another letter today. That unruly clump of feathers with a beak Pigwidgeon dropped the letter in my pumpkin juice at breakfast this morning. Doesn't he have anything better to do than concern himself with my love life? 

_He_ is _your older brother, and that's what he's supposed to do._

I'll give you that, but there was nothing new in his letter; at least I assume there wasn't. I didn't read it that carefully, and once I threw it in the dustbin, it was like the letter had never been sent. But that's not what I'm concerning myself wih right now; it's my letter from Draco. I promised myself that I wouldn't read it until after Double Potions. I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate in class if I did. Snape would take points away from Gryffindor for sure if he caught me writing a letter instead of taking notes. 

_We wouldn't want Gryffindor losing house points now, would we?_

Well, it's too late for that. I've already missed the first part of Potions. 

_Then you have time to tell me what the letter said._

I picked it up and read my name "Virginia Weasley" on the front. He always begins his letters with my full name; he's the only one of my friends who I let call me Virginia, besides you. It makes me feel older, especially the way _he_ says it. Anyway, I turned over the envelope and found the green wax seal imprinted with a dragon. I ran my finger over it, smiling as I thought about the day I gave him the seal. I hoped that each time he sent me a letter while I was still at Hogwarts, he would be reminded of the other thing I gave him that day. 

_You never told me about that day._

I never told anyone about that day. 

_And this letter?_

My rational side lost out, and I opened it, knowing he would be telling me something like "I can't wait to see you this weekend in Hogsmeade." 

_I didn't know you had an irrational side._

I must have picked it up from Ron. The letter was short, and it said nothing about the weekend, just that he needed to meet me at the edge of the forest as soon as I got the letter. And now I'm late for Potions, waiting impatiently for him. It's cold out, and I can hardly hold my quill steady. 

_Do be careful. You know I never trusted him._

~*~ 

She stared intently at the words, all the while insisting to herself that she was always careful. The diary rarely made such direct, opinionated statements, or at least it never had a reason to. The end of her quill gently brushed her cheek as she rested her back once more against the tree at the edge of the forest. 

"Virginia, you came." She heard the voice of her love, the one the diary didn't trust. To her right, flowing deep blue robes approached, and she looked up to see his hand outstretched, his fingers twirling around a lock of her auburn hair. It wasn't a natural auburn, but it distinguished her from the rest of the Weasley clan. She wasn't ashamed of them; she simply wanted to be acknowledged as Ginny or Virginia, and not just as "the youngest Weasley." 

"I could get in so much trouble for this." 

Draco wove his fingers with hers, and pulled his beloved towards him. The chill of the spring morning vanished as their bodies met. 

"And yet you still came," he said matter-of-factly. "They are not going to expel the head girl for meeting her dashing boyfriend in the Dark Forest." 

Everyone always told her he sounded arrogant, even the diary, but that wasn't true. His tone was confident, like his father's, but without the utter contempt for all things not Malfoy. His voice was soothing, and she would melt into him every time he spoke. All thoughts of where she should have been dissolved away as her lips joined his, drinking him in. Her delicate fingers were dancing through his silvery blond hair. He wore his hair long, but it was distinguishing, not like the slicked-back style he brandished while at Hogwarts. She would have stayed there all morning had he not pulled back, leaving her standing with her eyes closed and her hand falling to his shoulder. 

Together they walked into the forest, but she felt safe with Draco by her side. He would never let any harm come to her. But as they walked deeper into the forest, she became anxious. "Draco, where are we going?" Her voice was soft, but hinted at her fear because of what the diary had told her. 

"You'll see," he spoke with a tone he'd used before, but rarely directed at her. 

She tried to stop, but he kept pulling at her hand to follow, their fingers were still intertwined and he was holding her hand tightly. 

There was no sign of the edge of the forest, no direct sunlight to tell her that it was still morning, and too many shadows for creatures to hide in. "Wait, we've gone far enough Draco. I don't like this place." She pleaded with him to take her back to the castle. 

"Please, come with me." He looked into her eyes; the dazzling silvery blue eyes that she loved about him were a dull gray in the dim light of the forest. With her hand still in his, she reluctantly followed, turning her head back every time she thought she heard footsteps. Something was following them, but Draco seemed undaunted by the forest and it's occupants as he led her toward a small clearing where they finally stopped. 

The ground was littered with dead leaves, and the occasional tree root. A stagnant, humid, and eerily familiar smell permeated everything. The sense of smell can sometimes break the strongest memory charm, including that which we place on ourselves to forget a tragedy. "I think I know this place." Her eyes widened. 

Draco held both of her hands tenderly, and, leaning down to kiss her cheek, he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry." before reaching into her pocket to pull out the diary. He backed away from her slowly, holding the leather bound book; the corners of his mouth were turning up in an arrogant smile. He was jealous of a silly diary. 

"Sorry for what? Give it to me," she demanded. 

"So he doesn't trust me." He looked at the cover of the diary, running his fingers over the name on the back. 

"Well, after--" 

"I thought you would never bring that up again." A fire seemed to shine from behind his eyes, turning the dull gray into a burnished silver. 

"It was here. Now I remember. This is the spot." Her eyes welled with tears, picturing the lifeless body lying on the ground, and remembering the promise she made. 

"My father killed him, not me! But you won't let him go." 

"Draco, be reasonable, it's just a diary," _But not just any diary._

"It's _his_ memory, Virginia." Draco stood up straight, trying to banish his emotions, but as he gazed into his girlfriend's pleading face, he felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. "Damn him." Draco stood his ground, not wiping the tear that trailed down his cheek, or brushing aside the strand of hair that had fallen forward. He carelessly tossed the diary to the ground; the raised gold letters of _his _name facing her. She knelt down, reaching for the book, but pulled away at the last second as Draco took out his wand, fixing it on the diary. 

"Please," her voice trembled. 

"I'm sorry," he repeated. _"Avada Kedavra!"_


	2. The Witness

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** Thanks goes out to my beta **Cezanne** for helping me make this chapter comprehensible. Thanks to my reviewers here, and on Fiction Alley.  
On to the story: I've placed these symbols ( ~ ) around the words Ginny writes in the diary, and the diary's response is in italics.  


**His memories**

**Chapter one**

**The Witness**

_...Arous'd and angry,  
I'd thought to beat the alarum,  
and urge relentless war, But soon my fingers fail'd me,  
my face droop'd and I resign'd myself,  
To sit by the wounded and soothe them,  
or silently watch the dead;  
Years hence of these scenes,  
of these furious passions,  
these chances,  
Of unsurpass'd heroes,  
(was one side so brave? the other was equally brave;)  
Now be witness again...  
  
~Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass_

Two years earlier... 

~*~ 

It was one in the morning when Ginny crept down the cold stone steps to the Gryffindor common room. She hadn't been able to sleep. The torches on the wall burned dimly, and cast long dark shadows across the room. The fire was slowly burning itself out, and there was Ron, slumped over in an armchair, as he had been every night for the past week. "Ron," she said quietly, "You awake?" 

"No." 

Ginny sprawled herself over one of the empty chairs next to her brother. He hardly flinched as she nudged her hand at his. His hand felt cold like it had been resting over the arm of the chair for hours and all the blood was drained from it. He still hadn't changed out of the clothes he had worn that day. 

"All right?" he asked quietly. 

"No. Are you?" But she knew what the answer would be. Harry and Ron had been through so much together, and were inseparable at school. They were a source of strength for each other, and now Ron seemed incomplete. 

The whole school felt incomplete. It wasn't the same without Harry there. Students went to their classes, their common rooms, and the library as they had done before, but the mood was subdued, and even the Great Hall was quieter during meals. 

"Of course not," Ron sighed, she could tell he had been crying but was trying to hide it from her. "I went to my best friend's funeral today." Ginny shivered, once again picturing Harry's lifeless body in the casket. 

Hundreds of witches and wizards turned out in Godric's Hollow to see Harry Potter prematurely laid to rest next to his parents. The cold, depressing mood in the crowd was rivaled only by the weather, which was drizzling rain off and on during the entire ceremony. 

Ginny was starting to feel cold as she sat motionless. The fire that had been a single flame when she entered the room had burned down to a pile of smoldering orange-red embers. In the dim shadows on the wall she could just make out the outline of a broomstick above the fireplace. The mantle had become a memorial of sorts after Ron placed Harry's Firebolt there. Since then, students had added flowers, pictures, cards, and other sentimental objects: Neville's Remembrall, a pair to mismatched socks. 

Each time she entered the common room, it gave her some comfort to glance over at the mantle. There was always something that would catch her eye and flood her with happy memories of Harry. After returning from the funeral, Ginny finally made a contribution to the memorial. It was a picture her mother had taken of her with Harry, Ron, Hermione; they were tossing gnomes out of the garden. A smile crept across her face as she imagined Harry lobbing one over the hedge in a rather dramatic fashion. If it was possible, his untidy hair seemed more untidy, his cheeks were flushed, and he had a broad smile on his face. 

Almost as quickly as she remembered it, the picture was replaced by the one image that she wished she could forget--forever: Harry's body in the casket. For the first time, his hair was not unruly. His cheeks were pale, and his mouth was somber. He didn't look like he was sleeping because she knew he usually had a slight smile on his face when he slept. 

She heard Ron sigh again. 

"I know," she said feebly. "It's tough on all of us." 

"Even Malfoy raised his goblet to Harry at dinner tonight; can you believe he had the nerve?" That was the most feeling Ginny had heard from her brother in a while, but it was short lived. 

"Ron," Ginny scolded, but quickly changed her tone to something more compassionate. "He's sorry. Do you find it that hard to believe that even Harry's sworn enemy would feel bad about this?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" Ginny forced herself upright in the chair and looked over at Ron. He still hadn't moved from his position, but she could see his eyelids flicker, and his cheeks were beginning to redden. 

"Because everyone knows his father did it -- sodding bastard. And Malfoy knows but he won't say anything." He slowly opened his eyes, but didn't turn his head to face her. 

"He wasn't there. No one was--" Ginny was almost glad her brother refused to look at her, because if he had, he would see the guilt written in big red letters all over her face. Every time Ron cursed everyone and everything in that forest that didn't interfere and save his best friends life, Ginny felt even worse. If he kept that up, she wouldn't be able to look anyone in the face. 

But it had all been for her safety, and there was really nothing she could have done. Still, the thought of what her boyfriend's father had done plagued her memories and dreams. Dumbledore knew what she had witnessed, Draco knew, but that was all, and that's how it would stay. The unfortunate side effect was a growing rift between her and Ron. He was just too tired to resist talking to her tonight. 

"Sure," he said sharply. 

"Why don't you go up to bed, and we'll talk about this in the morning." 

"Can't. It's just Seamus, Dean, and Neville up there." 

"You have to stop doing this Ron. You haven't slept there since it happened," she said, feeling like a massive hypocrite for even suggesting it. She wasn't back to normal, and probably never would be. She hadn't slept a full night through since he was killed, because every time she drifted off to sleep her subconscious mind would take over, showing her images of a murderous and eerily satisfied Lucius Malfoy effortlessly running a sword right through Harry's chest. _Best not to think about it then, _she would tell herself. Easier said that done though. She was there, under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and remembered every detail all too vividly. 

Ron showed no sign of moving from the chair, and Ginny expected to find him there, asleep, in the morning. She returned to her dorm after her futile attempt to talk to her brother, and found the diary under her pillow; it was a gift from Harry two weeks before he was killed. She picked it up, but dropped it as a shiver ran through her body. She picked it up again, this time holding it more securely, and ran her fingers over the gold lettering that read H. J. Potter. It had never been opened, or at least she had never opened it, afraid of what might be written inside. 

Did she _really_ want to get inside Harry Potter's head? 

======================= 

_Ginny looked over the plainly wrapped parcel Harry had just given her. Her name was hastily scrawled on the front, and the ink was still wet. "Why did you use my full name?"_

_"I figured it would catch on soon. Virginia Erin Weasley."_

_"My mum calls me that when she's angry with me."_

_"Well, then it's about time we changed that."_

_"We'll see." She looked up at Harry to exchange a warm glance, but he was straining to keep a feeble smile on his face. "So, what's the occasion? I know it's not my birthday. "_

_Harry's eyes fell to the floor. "I can't really explain. I just want you to have this."_

_Ginny sighed. "Harry, I don't understand you. I explained this months ago, and it's never going to work between us." She didn't completely believe herself. She would always love Harry, but he would always think of her as Ron's little sister, which was not how she wanted to go through her first relationship, let alone her life._

_"It's not about that, Ginny. Just take it, and keep it safe. Please." Harry gently reached for her hand, pulling it up to kiss it. His hand was cold and he was trembling. She could swear, even in the sunlight that was shining into the common room, that the green in his eyes were somehow not so green. _

_"I know I can trust you with this." Harry let go of her hand, but stuffed something small and cold into her palm. He had been holding it the whole time, she realized, but it was still cold. He stood up slowly, bracing himself on the edge of the chair, and exited through the portrait hole. Ginny was alone, but in her palm, she held a thimble. Inside was a small piece of parchment that read "Common room, October tenth, eight pm."_

_She didn't understand what it meant, and she set it aside so she could open the small package he had given her. It turned out to be a red leather bound book, and on the back in raised gold letters was Harry's name. He had given her his diary, but why? _

_It remained hidden in the bottom of her trunk. Only Harry knew what was in it, as she had refused to let herself open the book. He told her to keep it safe, he did not tell her to read it. _

_But what puzzled her was his demeanor since that night in the common room. At first she thought he was sick, or lacking sleep, but each time she saw him, the circles under his eyes were darker. He would walk slowly as though he was distracted. She didn't know what to think, but could never bring herself to ask him if he felt all right. The one time she tried to talk to Dumbledore about Harry's behavior, he assured her that it was nothing out of the ordinary. She should have known then that out of the ordinary for Harry was free from harm._

_On October ninth, she returned to Gryffindor tower hoping to find Harry in the common room. He hadn't been at dinner and no one had seen him since lunch. He wasn't there, and a frightening feeling began to creep over her. She stuck her hand in her pocket, fingering the thimble Harry had given her. She knew it was a Portkey and that it was useless until October tenth at eight pm, but for some reason she carried it with her._

_After lingering in the common room for several minutes, she finally went up to her dorm where she found a package laying on her bed. The note read, "use it well" in Harry's almost illegible handwriting, and the ink was still wet. She looked around the room half expecting to Harry there, but she was alone._

_She unwrapped it to find Harry's Invisibility Cloak. It was then that she knew that Harry's odd behavior had a purpose, and whatever the outcome, she had to be under the cloak with the Portkey in her hand._

_The night she waited for the Portkey, there were several people in the common room studying and playing exploding snap; she felt ridiculous, although no one could see her. She was just hoping to be whisked away to a surprise party, or a dress robe sale at Madam Malkin's, but instead she found herself in a forest, with the wind cutting through her school robes, and witnessing a murder she had no way of stopping._

======================= 

Ginny woke up after dozing off for a few minutes. She was gripping the diary so tightly, that now her hands had the imprint of the leather, and the image of the word "otter" was pressed into the palm of her right hand. She sat up, and held the diary right side up, closed her eyes, and tried to imagine herself opening the diary. She didn't actually _want_ to open the diary just yet. Was it an invasion of privacy if he had given it to her? Before she knew what she was doing, her thumb had traced the perimeter of the book and was wedged in between two random pages, forcing the book open. She tightened her eyes so that she couldn't even see the weak lamp light though her eyelids, and opened the book. 

Over her roommates snoring, she heard a faint crackling sound as she opened the book and flattened her palm against the page. The parchment felt tattered, but she still kept her eyes closed and she flipped through the pages. She only had to open her eyes to learn what made the late Harry tick, or at least what made him write in a diary. 

They were just friends, but she told him everything, and he did the same. She couldn't imagine what was in the diary that they had never talked about. Thoughts about his mother and father? How much he hated the Dursleys, who hadn't even bothered to make an appearance at his funeral? How sad he was that Sirius hadn't been seen or heard from since Halloween the year before? 

With images of Harry scribbling running through her mind, she finally opened her eyes; the right one, then the left one. The page was blank. She turned to the next page, but that was blank too, in fact, the entire diary was blank except for the first page. 

She almost shrieked, which would have certainly woken up her roommates, but she only stifled a gasp; her first thought was of Tom Riddle's diary, but this one had Harry's name on it. It couldn't be the same, could it? So, to be sure, she took out a quill, inked it, and, after ten minutes of hesitation, wrote the word "hi" in the diary. What happened next, she expected, but didn't want to see. 

Black ink rose to the surface of the cream colored paper, as her own words sunk in. The ink formed three words, in handwriting so familiar it made her heart ache. 

_Who is this?_

She shut the diary, holding it up to her forehead, her eyes closed, and tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. _No, it can't be._ She didn't want to believe that Harry had been expecting this to happen, and she tried not to think about the thimble Portkey that had brought her to the clearing in the Dark Forest where Harry was kneeling before Lucius Malfoy; where, less than ten seconds later, he would be lying on the ground, as Lucius wiped the bloody sword off on Harry's robes. 

~*~ 

Two months passed, with everyone avoiding the slightest mention of Harry's name, except _in memoriam_ at the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match. They presented Gryffindor a banner in Harry's honor, much like the one that Gryffindor had given them before a match after Cedric was killed. The banner was now hanging next to Harry's broom in the common room. Ginny looked at it briefly as she slipped up the stairs and away from the Christmas Party that had been going at full force for three hours. 

All she could think about was the diary, left wrapped in parchment and an old jumper, in the bottom of her trunk as though it was disease ridden. To prevent someone from opening it, if they got past the impenetrable force field of her mother's knitting, she had placed several charms on the diary. One of which would turn the pilferers hands red for three days. She was only going to pack it to bring home to the Burrow for the holidays, but something made her want to open it. 

She took out her favorite quill, and a bottle of ink, and sat on her bed with the closed diary in her lap. The last time she had tried this, students were petrified, Hogwarts was almost closed, and she and Harry were almost killed.... But this time would be different; it had to be. 

She took a deep breath and opened the diary. It didn't matter which page; they were all the same, except that the first one that had a big black zigzag resembling the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. 

~ hi ~ 

_Who is this?_

It was the same thing the diary had written two months ago. She dipped her quill unnecessarily and when she touched it to the page, a Galleon size blotch of ink spread out on the page and then dissolved. 

_You may want to blot your quill first._

Inspecting the tip, she tried again. 

~ It's Ginny. ~ 

_Virginia, how have you been?_

~ It's Ginny, and I'm fine, for now. ~ 

_Sorry, Ginny. What do you mean by "for now?"_

~ I can't do this. ~ 

_Do what?_

~ You're not real. ~` 

Ginny didn't wait for a response. It wasn't right, not now. She closed the diary, and put it back in her trunk, leaving it there over the holidays. Even though she didn't have it with her, it was constantly on her mind. Upon returning to Hogwarts, she couldn't help thinking about the diary, as if it was calling to her, like Riddle's diary. Only, she hadn't written more than a few sentences in it, so there was no way it was controlling her. 

"Harry wouldn't to that," she told herself at least three times a day. Her compulsion was her own mind telling her that the diary would explain why Harry gave it to her only weeks before he was killed. 

Finally, she couldn't take it. She had already lost Gryffindor ten points for daydreaming in Transfiguration, so she knew she had to do something. Immediately after class and just before dinner, she went up to Gryffindor tower with the intent to finally write in the diary, but she was held up by a mass of students. They were crowded around her brother and Draco fighting. Ron, who undoubtedly had been provoked, was holding Draco up against the wall, threatening to punch him...again. 

"Not again," she mumbled to herself before mustering up her best Molly Weasley impersonation. "Ronald Weasley, put him down." At the sound of Ginny's shrill outburst, a gap formed in the crowd allowing her to march purposefully toward the two boys. 

"Quit defending him, Gin, he's no good." Ron was breathing heavily through his clenched teeth. "This slimy git is about to have an accident." 

Ginny tugged aggressively at her brother's robes, until he finally stepped away from Draco. The Slytherin was silent (for once) as he smoothed out the wrinkles in his robes, and straightened his prefect badge. 

"You don't deserve to wear one of those." Ron flicked his finger at the badge. 

"Hands off Weasley, or I'll--" 

"Or you'll what?" 

Draco flashed his signature half smile, saying nothing more to Ron. His gaze focused squarely on Ginny as he took her arm, pulling her to him, and kissing her deeply. She wanted to pull away and yell at Draco for getting her brother stirred up, but every time Draco kissed her, the world around her seemed to melt away until it was just them. She was brought to reality as Ron pulled them apart. She was shoved to the side, and then Ron backed up two steps only to lunge at Draco. 

The crowd seemed to be cheering them on, and if Ginny hadn't stunned her brother, no doubt people would have started taking bets on the outcome of the fight. She sent Draco away before finally, and with some hesitation reviving Ron. She was too furious with her brother to speak to him, and didn't wait for an explanation before storming off to her room. 

As she lay silently on her bed, she remembered why she was on her way to Gryffindor tower in the first place -- the diary. Wiping the tears from her face, she went to her trunk and pulled out the diary, a quill, and ink. She had to go through with it this time. 

~ hi ~

_Is this who I think it is?_

~ Virginia ~ 

_How are you?_

~ I've been better, but I'm not looking for pity. ~ 

_What happened?_

~ I just found my brother fighting with Draco again. ~ 

_Some things never change._

~ I wish they would grow up. Ron just hasn't been the same ~ 

_Since what?_

~ I can't. ~ 

_Yes you can. I know Harry died and I need you to tell me how it happened._

~ How? You're just his memories. ~ 

_Yes, and _my_ memories know that he was dying._

Ginny put the diary down, leaving it open. She intended to continue, but not just yet. She had to think of the right way to tell Harry's memory how he died. Although, the diary would probably take it better than she or anyone else had, after all; it was just a book. 

Just a book, right? 

She pulled out Harry's obituary from the Daily Prophet and began transcribing it. The diary was not satisfied with this, however, and interrupted her, sucking all the ink out of her quill so she couldn't write anything. 

_No. You were there, you can tell me._

~ I can't do it. ~ 

_I know you can._

~ No ~ 

_Why?_

The word lingered in the page as she thought about where to begin. _Why?_ she thought. She had plenty of "why" questions for him. 

~ Why didn't you just tell me the thimble was a Portkey? Why didn't you warn me about what I would see if I took it? Do you know that every day I live with the memory of you dying? Wondering if there was some way I could have stopped it from happening. ~ 

Her heart was beating rapidly and she could hear it in her ears; her breathing increased, almost to the point of hyperventilating. And even as she closed her eyes to blink back the tears, she saw quick flashes of Harry's face. She finally focused on the diary again as more words appeared. 

_It's time that you went to Dumbledore. By the way, what day is it?_

She was almost offended by how impersonal the question was. "What day is it?" she mumbled, but the diary couldn't hear her; it couldn't sense her emotions. Unsure of what was driving her, she continued to write. 

~ It's March 6. ~ 

~ And he'll tell me what he couldn't they day you died? ~ 

_Yes, but first, fill me in. How did he kill Harry?_

Again Ginny put the diary down, and wiped away the tears that were welling up in her eyes. The diary was starting to confuse her. It spoke, or rather, wrote in the third and first person. "Was it Harry or not?" she wondered. Dumbledore would know, but first she had to steady her hands and write out, for the first time, what she witnessed that evening in the forest. She picked up the diary; the tears on her thumb soaking into the page caused more words to appear. 

_I know it's hard, but please, you must tell me._

She picked up the quill, and began describing what she had seen the moment the Portkey took her away from the Gryffindor common room. 

~ You were kneeling before Lucius Malfoy in a clearing in the Dark Forest. Your empty hands were raised over your head, and you didn't move. He was glaring at you with contempt. I couldn't see your face, but I know you must have looked dignified, not the least bit frightened. I think it made him angry that you wouldn't cower before him and plead for your life. I never told Dumbledore this, but he spoke to you just before he ~ 

Ginny scratched out that last word and replaced it with "you died". 

~ It all happened in a matter of seconds, and I never had a chance to pull out my wand to disarm Malfoy before he ran the blade through your chest. He quickly wiped the blood off his sword using your cloak, and Disapparated. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him. ~ 

_Don't apologize. None of this could be prevented, and when you talk to Dumbledore you'll know why._

_So Lucius chose to kill me like a Muggle would._

~ Please don't make light of this; it's not a joke, not for those of us who buried you. ~ 

_Sorry._

_Did he take blood?_

~ How did you know? ~ 

_Continue..._

She dipped the quill into the ink before touching it to the page again. A small blotch appeared, and in it, a crude image of Harry's smiling face dissolved into the center. Ginny smiled with tears still streaming down her face. The image inspired her to continue. 

~ When Lucius was gone, I rushed to your side and took your hand. And please don't ask me what was going through my mind at the time, or what I said to you, or what you said to me. I don't think I'll ever repeat it. I slipped the thimble out of its pouch into our joined hands. It brought us directly to the hospital wing where Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were waiting. By then it was too late. ~ 

Tears were obscuring her vision, and she paused to wipe them away. Images and memories flashed through her mind as she described what happened. She could hear her own words in her head. _Harry, if you want me to kill him, I will. I'll do anything you ask me, just don't let go. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him, but I'll--_. 

_When the time comes I know you will do the right thing._

The words appeared in the diary, and echoed in her ears because they had been Harry's last just before she felt his hand go limp. It was reminding her of the anger she felt that day: toward herself, Draco, his father, Dumbledore, everyone. 

And now the diary. 

~ They were expecting us. Why? Why did you let this happen? ~ 

The diary didn't respond. 

~ Damn your bravery, why were you there in the first place? ~ 

Still no response. Ginny shut the diary and buried her head in her pillow, screaming and cursing Harry for not trying to save himself. 

~*~ 


	3. Keep it in Your Heart

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** **Cezanne**, my wonderful beta, you rock! Thanks for all your help. And to all of you who are reading this, keep up the reviews. I'm thrilled at the response, and glad to see that you all are enjoying this story. So enjoy the chapter. It isn't quite as depressing as the last one.  


**His Memories**

**Chapter Two**

**Keep it in your heart...**

_* * * *  
* A lesson * * learned *  
* a loving God, and * * things in their own *  
* time. In nothing more do I trust. We own nothing. *  
* nothing is ours. Not even love so fierce it burns like *  
* baby stars. But this poverty is our greatest gift. The *  
* weightlessness of us as things around begin to shift. *  
* Remember everything I told you, keep it in your *  
* heart like a stone. And when the winds have *  
* blown things round and back again. *  
* What was once your pain will *  
* be your home. Everything *  
* in its own time *  
* ~~~~ *  
* _

_~ Everything in Its Own Time, _ Emily Sailers 

Even before Draco put his wand away, Ginny stood up and was rushing toward him. It had taken a great deal of energy for Draco to perform the curse, and, as a result, Ginny easily forced him against a tree. 

"You idiot, you could have hit me with that curse! What the hell were you thinking?" Ginny was up on her toes and just inches from Draco's face. Her eyes pierced his gaze, which was made silver as his eyes began to water. It was the only indication that he might have been regretting what he'd done. As Ginny held him there she could feel his heart beating rapidly in time with hers. Draco's eyes fell upon Ginny's mouth; his tongue wet his lips as he suggestively flicked his chin and leaned forward. She had no intention of kissing him though the temptation was overwhelming. 

Ginny's eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. _He's just trying to manipulate me,_ she thought. 

"Virginia, I--" 

"Don't you 'Virginia' me. You're just lucky that a killing curse doesn't work on an inanimate object." Ginny finally released her grasp and leaned down to pick up the diary. As she did, a cold tingle coursed through her body. Draco was behind her as she stood up. He said nothing, but she could feel his warmth as he ran his hand down her arm. 

"_Open it,"_ he said leaning closer and whispering in her ear. All of the pages looked the same as they had before. 

"Why?" she asked. "I don't see anything." 

Draco handed her a quill he'd taken out of her bag. With the small amount of ink that was still in the tip, she wrote "Harry" in the diary. She stared at the page for several seconds waiting for the words to dissolve, and for Harry to respond. 

"What's going on?" She tried again, but nothing happened. 

"The killing curse banishes all signs of life from a sentient being or object," Draco stated in a flat, chilling tone; he sounded like he was reciting it from memory. It must have been how his father explained it to him. "That includes the beating of a heart, breathing, and thinking." 

"But…" Ginny wrote Harry's name a third time, and the only result was that the page now read "Harry Harry Harry". Her heart sank as Draco's betrayal became clear. "I can't believe I ever trusted you. The diary was right." Ginny ran from the clearing, not looking back. Ahead of her was the forest that seemed harmless ten minutes ago, or at least less frightening with Draco at her side. 

_Draco._ He had always promised to be there for her; and after Harry died, Draco was the only one she could open up to. "He's dangerous, Ginny, and I don't want to see my only daughter hurt," her mother would tell her. 

She should have listened. 

The forest was darker now. She took notice of things that hadn't frightened her before. Large trees could hide terrible creatures waiting to pounce on her; faint shadows from the low bushes blanketed her path like hundreds of Lethifolds. And the smell. The Dark Forest had a distinct odor, and on the right days you could smell it throughout the castle. Now that she was in the forest, the concentrated acrid smell permeated her mouth and nostrils and wove itself into the fabric of her cloak. Any sounds she made were swallowed up in the shadows, leaving only the low-pitched moan of the wind blowing through the canopy above. 

In her mind, Draco's remorseless voice echoed his empty apology. _I'm sorry_. 

"How could you just apologize?" she tried to yell, but her throat wouldn't let her say more than "How--". Draco knew how important protecting the diary was, and still he wanted to destroy it. _How_, she thought, but this time she began scolding herself for trusting him. The diary warned her too many times and she just wouldn't listen. 

After ten minutes of running, her breathing became more rapid, and her body tensed as she realized that she was no closer to the edge of the forest than when she started out. Sweat was beading on her brow, dripping down her cheek and mixing with tears. Her vision was becoming hindered, until finally she failed to see the tree root just ahead. It caught the heel of her shoe, pulling it off as she fell forward. She landed first on her knees, but the inertia from her fall propelled the rest of her body forward. With her hands still firmly grasping the diary, her shoulder hit the ground before she finally came to a halt. 

It seemed like hours, but her fall took place in a matter of seconds. Now the sound of her heartbeat was louder than the wind in the trees. Slowly, she removed one hand from the diary and pushed herself to a sitting position. As she wiped away the tears from her face, she felt the dirt abrade her skin. 

Sighing deeply, she glanced down at the diary in her left hand. _"No, it can't be,"_ she whispered, placing her right palm over the diary. It still didn't feel any different, although she knew that if she opened it, she would see Harry's name three times in her handwriting. 

"Why did you do it?" Ginny finally cried out, but this time her voice seemed to echo, at least in her ears. 

"Virginia, I had to." Draco's voice startled to her. All she wanted was to ignore it and keep running. 

"You didn't have to _do_ anything," she sobbed, tucking a moist tendril of hair behind her ear. 

"Will you let me explain?" he asked. She could still sense the insincerity in his voice. 

"Was it all a lie, Draco?" But before she finished her question she realized that he probably wouldn't answer truthfully. He couldn't be trusted anymore. She heard him breathe in just as he was about to answer, but she put her hand up to his mouth to stop him. Taking it as a sign of affection, he leaned into her gentle touch before moving his own hand up to her chin. Ginny screwed her eyes shut forcing more tears to fall down her cheeks. Draco wiped them away, and for a brief moment she felt herself wanting to forget what had just happened. But when Draco asked her to open her eyes, her mind was brought back to reality, and the expression on his face was still cold. 

"I love you, Virginia, and I'm sorry," he said softly, then pulled the diary from her hands. Against her better judgment, she let him open it. He found the page she had written on; there was still no change. The tears that had dripped from her chin onto the page merely saturated it, and caused the ink to run. 

"If you're trying to make me feel worse, you've succeeded." 

"That's not it at all," said Draco defensively while still maintaining a frigid façade. At this, Ginny forced herself to look him squarely in the face in the hopes that she could break through the barrier he had erected. 

"I don't believe you." She raised her head in defiance, determined to prove that he had not won. "I've become too comfortable with your manipulation. I always tried to look past it because I believed there was something good in you that you only let a few people see. I guess I was wrong." Ginny reached for her shoe, but Draco caught her hand. "Let go!" 

"No." 

"Do you know that at least once a week my brother tells me that I should just forget you exist? Two years. We've been together for two years, and still he hasn't warmed up to you. Don't you think that's odd? Maybe I should trust my brother for once now that you've proved what you _really_ are." Ginny was boiling over with emotion, and was almost regretting saying the things she did. If Draco was truly sorry he would try to defend himself, or at least give her a sincere apology, but he simply accepted the verbal abuse. 

Draco withdrew his hand and stood up, still holding the diary. He remained at her side for a few moments before Ginny finally spoke. 

"Just leave me," she whispered. "I'd rather take my chances with the forest." 

Immediately she sensed that he had left her. "Draco?" There was no answer. He was gone, and so was the diary. 

When she finished tying her shoe, she stood up again. The forest awaited. 

Empty-handed and completely alone, Ginny started walking; slowly at first, then as she became more sure of her footing she sped up. But it didn't matter because she was wandering in circles following the lightest patches and passing the same trees more than twice. Her mind was racing; she was furious with Draco, furious with herself for not believing the diary, and now it was too late. 

_"I'm sorry,"_ she whispered, thinking of Harry and the promise. He chose her to protect the diary, and she failed. 

============================== 

_"Harry was dying," Dumbledore said flatly, folding his hands and resting them on top of the red leather book in front of him. It was only a week ago that she had explained to the diary how Harry died, and now Dumbledore was finally going to explain what happened and why Harry had given it to her. Ginny calmly sat in a chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. On either side of her sat her parents; they each had an arm around her._

_"How?" Ginny leaned forward in her chair._

_"A potion." The color in Ginny's face drained away. "We believe it was put into his food at the Leaky Cauldron they day he bought his school supplies. According to Professor Snape, he had three months, but Harry noticed the symptoms immediately."_

_Ginny gasped, remembering how Harry behaved that day on the train._

_Dumbledore continued. "So we created this diary in order to preserve the one means of protection Harry had against Voldemort." _

_Ginny felt her mother flinch at the mention of the dark wizard's name while her father remained steady._

_"What good will it do now that Harry is -- dead?" Ginny couldn't believe the irony. If only that protection extended to the others who wanted him dead. _

_"When Harry's blood was used to give Voldemort back his body, the protection his mother left with him was passed on to the dark wizard. Even I believed it to be a well thought out plan, but what Lily left with Harry did far more than anyone ever imagined. Slowly, Voldemort was losing strength as Harry's blood coursed through his veins. It was attacking him from within, and would have killed him eventually had he not found a solution." As Dumbledore continued, Ginny finally blinked back the tears that had pooled in her eyes. "That same protection is preserved in this diary, among other things." Dumbledore picked up the book that Ginny had brought to him the week before._

_"What other things?" she asked, and could feel her mother nudge her for doing so, but Ginny still had questions. "The diary asked me about blood, and--" Ginny hesitated because even her parents didn't know that she had witnessed Harry's murder. But she didn't need to explain, as Dumbledore already knew what she meant._

_"The potion that was used on Harry needed two months to mix and react with his blood before it could be taken and given to Voldemort to prolong his life."_

_"Life? Can it really be called that? He merely exists, and now, at the expense of Harry." Ginny's chin fell to her chest._

_"The blood stopped the degenerative effects, but more importantly," Dumbledore's tone lightened, "it also meant that Voldemort was no longer protected by that magic."_

_"With respect, Professor, what good does a diary do against You-Know-Who?" she asked, but her voice didn't sound respectful._

_"It wasn't just Harry's memories and the protection from his mother that we put into the diary, but also his abilities. You must have noticed the affects before he died. Harry was weakened; he could no longer perform even the simplest spell. A draught from Madam Pomfrey kept up his physical strength, enough to make his classmates believe he was just a bit under the weather. But the potion _was_ killing him, and the diary was the only way to save him." Dumbledore took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose, or wiping his moist eyes; Ginny couldn't tell. If he was emotional about this, he never let on._

_"Professor," Ginny said taking a deep breath. "Will this diary do what Tom Riddle's was intended to do, minus the basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets?" She seemed to stumble over Riddle's name. It was still difficult for her to think about what had happened in her first year, and, although Harry's diary was different, it still dredged up memories she had tried so hard to forget._

_Dumbledore passed a glance to Arthur and Molly, then to their daughter who was starting to tremble. "This diary is essentially living. It can think and it can be destroyed, although we've taken some precautions. But where Riddle's diary was intended to take over the mind and body of the writer, this one merely transfers power."_

_"Why did Harry choose me?"_

_"That is something you will have to ask the diary."_

_"She will do no such thing, Professor," Mrs. Weasley interjected, and jumped to her feet. "You should just burn that thing before it falls into the wrong hands."_

_"Molly," Mr. Weasley's voice of reason chimed in, "I believe there's more to this. Isn't there Albus?" Dumbledore nodded, and Molly sighed returning to her seat. _

_"What are you asking me to do, Professor?" Ginny spoke quietly, sounding remarkably like her father._

============================== 

Again a tree root caught her foot, but she quickly regained her balance. Her memory of that day in the Headmaster's office was still clear. For several months after, she tried think of a way to shuffle off her responsibilities. Her mother would have been happy if she did although she never said it. She was no closer to writing the key phrase in the diary that would unlock Harry's abilities, but she had accepted that it would be selfish of her to give up when Harry had never been given a choice. 

After a short break from walking, Ginny looked at her unfamiliar surroundings. She'd passed the same cluster of trees for the fourth time, and was only wearing herself out. Finally, she pulled out her wand, hoping that a simple spell Harry had taught her would lead her back. She had never tried it, and only vaguely remembered Harry telling her how he used it during the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. 

_"Point me."_ The tip of her wand spun to her right, telling her that she needed to turn around and walk forward. She walked for five minutes, meandering around tree roots and bushes before she tried the spell again. It told her she was still on course, if it was the right one. After ten more minutes, the forest was noticeably lighter, and the wind that she had heard in the treetops was beginning to blow gently through her school robes. Soon she could see the edge of the forest and when she finally emerged, she was just down the hill from the paddocks outside Hagrid's hut. 

The wind had picked up, and it now felt colder than when she first walked outside. Ginny was covered in dried leaves and dirt. Moist tendrils of her hair mixed with leaves whipped wildly in her face as she stared blankly up the hill at the crowd of students gathered around the half giant. He was holding something that looked rather large, and disagreeable. It was enough to distract them so she could make her way up to the castle unseen. Although, with all the dirt and leaves in her hair and on her cloak, she probably blended in with the ground. 

Once inside she performed a cleaning charm on her robes but they were still damp and wrinkled. Her hair was a lost cause, and after running her fingers through the auburn locks, she decided she was presentable enough to go talk to the Headmaster. 

Out of breath from her flight, she ran up the main staircase and directly to Dumbledore's office. She knocked quietly on the door and heard him say, "Come in Miss Weasley." 

"How did you know it was me, Professor?" Ginny shut the door, but froze in place when she saw the familiar silvery blond hair and dark robes seated and facing away from her. Ginny turned on her heel, and reached for the door. 

"Professor Snape told me you were not in class this morning, but you were at breakfast. Do you care to explain your absence?" Ginny's hand was touching the door latch, but she paused. 

"Not anymore," she said. "What is _he_ doing here?" 

Besides reminding her why she had missed class, why she had been crying, and why she was standing in the Headmaster's office, Draco's presence renewed the anger inside her that had subsided as she made her way through the forest. 

"Virginia, will you let me explain now?" She heard the voice she had fallen in love with, but she was furious with him, no matter what voice he used. He was manipulating her again; it was the only explanation. 

"I don't want to hear it now. It's too late." Ginny turned her body slightly; her hand was still on the door. "I'm sorry, Professor." 

"Miss Weasley, please come back here," said the Headmaster sternly. 

"Not until _he_ leaves." 

There was only silence, but in her mind, she could see Dumbledore looking over the top of his half-moon spectacles, gently but purposefully scolding her. She removed her grip on the door, and turned. Dumbledore's face was exactly as she imagined it, and inwardly she felt guilty for being rude to him. Outwardly, she felt guilty for everything else she'd done that morning. And though she didn't want to admit it, she felt guilty for not waiting for an explanation from Draco. 

As she approached the desk, she could see the diary in front of Dumbledore. Draco still hadn't turned to look up at her; instead he kept his eyes forward. If he had tried to look her in the eyes, she'd have pawned off some of her guilt on him. 

"Did Draco tell you what he did to the diary?" she asked flatly. 

"He has." 

Ginny waited for a few moments, expecting Dumbledore to say more, but he didn't. He just opened the diary to the first page and let a subdued smile creep across his face. At first she was stunned by his reaction. Harry's death had brought out more emotion in Dumbledore than she ever remembered seeing, and for him to just smile as he looked at the diary was unnerving. And, as Dumbledore turned the book outward to show her the first page, she remained stunned because, written in Harry's familiar handwriting, were the words "It will take more than a little Unforgivable Curse to rid the world of me." Ginny smiled briefly. 

"How?" she asked, running her hands over _his_ words. She turned to the page where she had written Harry's name three times, but it was blank. "You told me it was living and could be killed." 

"You are correct, and normally the killing curse removes all signs of thought and life from the victim. Had it been anyone else, the curse would have worked, but of course that one never worked on Harry." 

_Draco was right,_ she thought. "But why didn't it backfire on Draco like the it had on You-Know-Who?" 

"I told you before that we had taken some precautions against the diary being destroyed. This was one of them. If a curse is used in an attempt to destroy it, the diary remains dormant for a short time." 

Ginny's eyes had started to water again. 

"This seems like something so simple. Why wasn't," Ginny hesitated, "Riddle's diary protected in the same way?" 

"It was, and it took a puncture from the tooth of a basilisk to destroy it. Which incidentally will not work on this one." 

They had thought of every thing, it seemed. But something was nagging at her. If the diary couldn't be destroyed, it could become a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. Now more than ever she wondered why it was entrusted to her. Her silence had been longer than she realized and was enough time for Draco to reach over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. She leaned slightly to her left causing his hand to fall. 

He sighed. 

"So talk," she told him. "and it better be good, or I'm never speaking to you again." 

"You could hear footsteps following us in the forest, I know you could," Draco began. "My father was there, watching us." Ginny's breathing became more rapid. 

"Please tell me you were under Imperius or something," she said slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head drop. "Then why?" 

"My father said he would kill you if I didn't destroy the diary." 

"And how is this supposed to make me feel better?" Ginny shook her head, not wanting to believe Draco. The look on Dumbledore's face told her to trust him, despite what the diary and her intuition said. "No one was supposed to know about the diary. How did your father find out about it? The only people who know about this are my parents, and you two -- Draco, you didn't?" 

"No. My father found out some other way." 

Finally Ginny turned to face Draco. "Which was?" 

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me, and I couldn't ask because he would have known I was aware of the diary's purpose. Please don't tell me I'm selfish for doing this. I knew the diary would be safe, but I couldn't let you know because your reaction had to be believable." Draco averted his eyes. He was being honest, too honest, and it hurt. "I feel terrible for this, but believe me when I say I did all I could." 

"You led me deep into the forest," she whispered. "I don't care what your intentions were, you know how dangerous that place is, and that I really wasn't supposed to be there in the first place." Ginny glanced at Dumbledore, hoping he would just look past her disregard for school rules in this matter. 

"I never left you. When I took the diary from you, I switched it with one that looked just like it, and gave it to my father. He wanted me to come with him, but I insisted I had to follow you to ensure you made it out safely." Again Draco reached for her, and this time she let him cup his hand on her shoulder. Slowly he let his fingers wander to the center of her back. She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine herself forgiving Draco, but even under his familiar and welcome touch she couldn't do it. Not yet. 

.~*~. 

Draco cornered Ginny once they were outside Dumbledore's office. She didn't feel quite as mad anymore, but in her disheveled state, all she wanted to do was dive into the bathtub in the prefect's bathroom. 

"If you are expecting me to forgive you right now, you can just forget it," said Ginny imperiously, trying to side-step her way around Draco. 

With a dull thud, Draco's black boot came down in front of her path. "You know, if I wanted this treatment, I'd go find one of your brothers." 

"Well, then if you _didn't_ want this treatment, you shouldn't have tricked me like that. That was just cruel." Ginny tightened her fists at her side. "And what was all that in Dumbledore's office? Stop trying to manipulate me, and just be honest." 

"I am being honest, and I'm sorry it hurt. I _was _trying to save your life, remember?" 

"Yeah, well I hate you, do you believe me?" 

"No." 

Ginny blurted out a somewhat subdued scream in frustration. "Don't you have work, or something?" 

"My father gave me the day off." 

"Oh, that's nice of him," she said sarcastically. "Well, I have to get to class." 

"Looking like that?" 

Normally she would be angry with him for commenting on her appearance, but he was right. "I'm going to shower first, but never you mind about that. How does it look for the Head Girl to miss class and wind up fighting in the hallway?" 

Ginny shifted to the right, but Draco was still blocking her path. "You're not going anywhere until I make you understand what happened." 

"I already know, but I'm still mad," Ginny drew her lips into an unconvincing line as Draco cranked up his charm. His lop-sided smile was growing. "Would you stop that?" 

"What?" Draco said innocently. 

The corners of her mouth started to turn up, despite all her efforts to look hacked off. "Just...I'm trying to make a point damn it, and you're making it very difficult." 

Draco took a hold of Ginny's arm, and tight enough that she couldn't pull away as he lead her down the spiral stairs. Dumbledore had to have heard their entire argument and was probably making preparations to announce a replacement Head Girl or something to that effect. "You're hurting my arm, Draco." 

"Sorry," he said, but he still didn't let go. "I have a point to make too." 

Ginny raised her eyebrows expectantly. "And..." 

"Don't you see that I'm willing to lie to my father for you? He scares the hell out of me pretty much all the time." 

"Well, you're starting to scare the hell out of me, so be careful. I have six brothers remember." Draco smiled as she said this. "Don't tell me you're not afraid of them. Ron alone could hold you down while Fred and George stuffed Canary Creams down your throat. And don't get me started on what Charlie the Dragon handler could do." 

"No, I mean yes--I mean, I don't want to set off you brothers. I'm well aware that they could kick my arse. Well, not Percy, but the rest can be very threatening. It's just… I thought of something in the forest. Do you remember what your brother said me last year in the Great Hall?" 

"Which one, they've said a lot of things." 

"Ron," Draco said. Ginny was shocked, and rightfully so. It was rare that he called Ron anything other than 'Weasley' or 'that git'. "He said that you and I were too different and that we should just break it off before someone got hurt. Then he told me to go hurt myself, but that's not my point." 

"What is?" Ginny asked, finally freeing her arm from Draco's grasp. 

"We're not that different. Think about it." 

"When did you become a philosopher?" 

"Three days ago," he drawled. "We both come from old wizarding families where family loyalty was drilled into our heads; not effectively in my case, but our parents had great plans for us. Don't tell me you mum didn't dream about what you, her only daughter would become. If she didn't care about you, she would have just let you date me. Instead, she still sends me howlers regularly." 

Ginny smiled. "And what great things did your father have planned for you?" 

Draco was looking quite proud of himself up until that point, now he looked a little deflated. "Okay, bad example, I'm still working out the flaws in my theory, but trust me, we belong together." 

Ginny folded her arms across her chest, set her jaw and drew her lips into a line. "I've never thought about us that way. If we were so similar we never would have lasted this long." 

"Does that mean we're still..." 

"Meet me on the road to Hogsmeade on Saturday and we'll discuss this." 

"What is there to discuss? I love you; you -- well you're angry with me, but I'm pretty sure you love me too." 

"I said we'd discuss it this weekend. I have to get to class." 

Draco let her pass, but not before giving her a small kiss on the cheek. She leaned into it, and then turned to walk down the corridor. He was a good actor, and everything he said -- the good and the bad -- was convincing whether he meant it or not. It didn't seem right that she wasn't angry with Draco any longer. 

What was really gnawing at her was the amount of information that was hidden from her. She was entrusted with a powerful object and actually told very little about its full potential. As she walked back to Gryffindor tower, she made a mental list of things she still needed to ask the diary. For instance, Harry had never told her what was going during the month he was making the diary. She'd never been told what needed to be written in the dairy to unlock it's power. And perhaps the most important thing that she's tried so many times to find out was why Harry had chosen her. 

Ginny returned to her dorm after a long shower in the prefect's bathroom. Washing away the dirt that had dried to her face seemed to wash away the remaining anger she had been feeling. It was almost lunchtime, but she had to write something in the diary just to be sure it still worked. 

She lay on her bed, staring at the first page, and tracing her finger over the lightning scar for several minutes. "Why did you choose me Harry?" she said quietly, then picked up a quill and wrote those words in the diary. 

.~*~. 

More to come: What is the answer? Why _did_ Harry feel Ginny was the best person to keep his diary? There's also the Hogsmeade weekend, some pleasant surprises, and some not so pleasant ones. How did Lucius find out about the diary? Will Ginny ever "unlock" the diary's powers? And of course, how many mages will a Nimbus LSI Sport Utility Broom seat? These questions and more will soon be answered. Thank to all of you who took the time to review on FAP: **SlytherinPrincess821, Narcissa, Andra Malfoy, edition1013, Alexa Malfoy, Becky Anderson, Secret Keeper, GLEH, kinsel, Jenni Bundick, Im_Ginny_Weasley.** and here.Keep those reviews coming. 


	4. Choices

**Summary:** Ginny has made a promise to protect the memories of a friend, but will her relationship with Draco put those memories at risk? Ginny learns why Harry gave her his diary just before he died. This puts her mind at ease, that is until Dumbledore tells her what she is expected to do with the diary now that she knows. 

**Authors Notes:** Thanks to my beta, Cezanne. To my readers and reviewers here and on Schnoogle, thanks for the feedback. Please continue, it means a lot. I've changed how I note when Ginny is writing. This symbol ( ~ ) appears before the words she writes. What diary!Harry writes is in italics.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

**His Memories **

**Chapter Three **
    
    **Choices
    **
    
    _So you walked with me for a while, bared your naked soul.
    And you told me of your plan, how you would never let them know.
    In the morning of the night, you cried a long lost child.
    And I tried, oh I tried to hold you, but you were young and you were wild...
    ...Caught in your eyes
    Lost in your name
    I will never be the same...
    ~_Melissa Etheridge_, I will never be the same_
    

Ginny stirred, rolling her head to one side then the other causing strands of her auburn hair to fall gently across her face tickling her cheeks. Slowly, she drew her right arm up to brush the hair aside, then let it rest over her forehead. Her sleep had been dreamless, and as she regained consciousness, images of black ink streamed across a faded yellow backdrop in her minds eye. _Why did you choose me,_ she had written and watched those words slowly dissolve into the page. Several minutes passed before, one-by-one, the words 'You imply I had a choice' appeared. 

What ensued was something she was not proud of, but it was something that had to be done. Her words spilled onto the page as though she wrote them with acid rather than ink; had the pages not been indestructible, they would have been eaten away. Not since the day she told the diary how Harry died had she become so overtaken with enough emotion to lash out at the book. 

The diary truly was Harry, however, and allowed her to write all she was feeling before it finally explained everything: Why it had to be her, Why he never told anyone, Why he felt terrible for not doing things differently. In Harry's handwriting, it was ten pages of explanation, apology, and feeling. She'd only made it through the first before the fatigue that had been stalking her all morning finally caught up with her. 

Ginny stretched out her arms, tensing and relaxing the muscles before making an attempt to move the rest of her body. With a muffled groan, she tightened her stomach pulling her into a sitting position. Her eyelids fluttered open focusing on the only light in the room: a ribbon of silver moonlight striping the maroon duvet, her black school robes, and the flaxen pages of the diary that lay open in her lap. The pages still overflowed with Harry's explanation but she couldn't finish reading just yet. Having missed lunch, dinner, and her classes in between, she was starving. 

Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness when the door creaked open. 

"Ginny," a voice whispered. "You awake yet?" 

"Yes," she said groggily and her vision was immediately bombarded with color as the every torch in the room was illuminated simultaneously. Squinting, she brought her arm up to her face to block the sensory overload. 

"I told McGonagall you were up here sleeping; so soundly, in fact, that I couldn't even shake you awake." Ginny followed Beth's voice as she crossed the room to her four-poster bed. "She didn't seem to be concerned. Is this some Head Girl privilege to just be able to miss class without an excuse?" 

"It's not that," Ginny began but left her words hanging. She had an excuse and no intention of explaining it to her. Beth was a vulture when it came to gossip and rumors, and telling her was a good at telling the whole school. 

"It wouldn't have anything to do with why your _boyfriend_ was seen in the entrance hall right before lunch?" Beth said 'boyfriend' as she always did: loathing, mixed with sympathy, and just a touch of jealousy. 

"Of course it did," she wanted to say, but "I wasn't feeling well today," was the lame excuse she gave instead. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light allowing her to focus on her roommate. The accusing stare of Beth's hazel eyes was framed by silken chestnut hair tumbling over both shoulders in gentle waves. 

"Sure, and that's why you were wearing school robes with your shoes on and lying next to a pile of books. It must have been intense reading for you to fall asleep with a book on your chest." Beth smirked and nonchalantly flicked her hand through her hair. Ginny went pale and could feel her throat go dry. Word about the diary had slipped out once before, though she didn't know how, and that was why she'd been absent from classes. 

"Do you have a point?" Ginny asked with faint curiosity thinly veiled in sarcasm, hoping to hide her anxiety. Beth's eyes narrowed. "I did see Draco today, but I don't know _what_ you are implying." Beth shuddered at the mention of Draco's name as most people did at Voldemort's name. This reaction had no meaning for Ginny because it was typical. There were only a few students in Gryffindor who accepted Ginny's relationship with him; Elizabeth was not among their numbers. Not only was he a Slytherin, but also the rumors about his father's involvement in Harry's death festered (with Beth's help) two years later. 

Although wide-awake after sleeping for eight hours, Ginny was growing tired of her roommate's prying. She excused herself after casually slipping the diary back into her trunk along with a couple other schoolbooks, and went down to the kitchens to nick some food. When she returned to her room, Carol and Tess were there charming pigment in on their finger and toenails, and Beth was surveying her Transfiguration text with mild interest. 

Ginny took the diary and her Arithmancy book down to the common room after changing into her pajamas and dressing gown. The soft soles of her red slippers made a scuffling sound on the area rug as she crossed the common room to an oversized armchair in front of the fire. Only a few students remained, but the room was still quiet and she could read in peace. She curled up and discretely shoved the diary inside her book and began reading, from the beginning. 

.

_This is the explanation I should have given you a long time ago, but as you'll see, I couldn't give it to you until now. Although as a diary I have no concept of time, I know enough time has elapsed, and as many times as we've exchanged words, I've altered the words that follow. I never wanted to hurt anyone, I never wanted to hurt you, and I never wanted to force someone else to fight my battles for me. I never wanted pity for the way I was treated growing up, and I certainly never wanted pity after I learned I was dying. _

_You have asked forty-three times why I chose you, and forty-two times I've refused to answer your question. Please understand that it wasn't because I didn't trust you, because I do or you wouldn't be reading this. Several safeguards were in place so that even if the diary fell into the wrong hands, it would be useless. Each step, performed by either you or Dumbledore had to be completed in the right order before the full power of this diary could be accessed. Only after you wrote the first words could I respond. If anyone else had tried to write, nothing would have happened. The second was for you to explain how Harry died, in your own words. Third, was for Dumbledore to acknowledge that he'd explained part of the events leading up to my death. Fourth, was completed today when Dumbledore said you were ready to hear everything. Now I can no longer withhold anything from you. The last step will be explained when you've finished reading this, but you may complete it only when you feel you are ready. _

_There was never a doubt in my mind that the diary should go to you. Not because of your experience with Tom Riddle's diary, but because you are the strongest person I know. To prove that to you, I have to tell you everything, beginning with my last summer. _

_Being cared about is something I never knew until I came to Hogwarts. I would have settled for being hated if it meant the Dursleys acknowledged my presence, but they treated me with indifference. They told me I was a burden more times than I cared to count. You would think that after a while I would just block them out, but I couldn't. It wasn't in my nature to return the indifference. _

_That is why I savored every day I was able to spend at the Burrow around a family who actually cared about me. Your family took me and treated me like I belonged there. And never once did they pity me for how bad I had it growing up, or that I never knew my parents, or that I never knew I was a wizard until I turned eleven. That was the worst feeling. I hated pity, and I didn't want it. _

_And why does all this matter? Because if I had told anyone what was happening to me, that's exactly what I would have received. Pity. Did I mention I hate it? That was the one thing I could never get past with Hermione. She was a wonderful friend, and caring, too caring. She could never have taken this diary because of that. _

_You understand what I mean by this because you hate pity too. You're probably smiling as you read this because I remember you saying that several times over the summer. You hated if people felt sorry for your family, or for you being the youngest child and only girl. You tried so hard to break out of your family mold and make a name for yourself, and you've succeeded. I admire that; Harry admired that even if he never said it to you. It took a lot of courage for you to start dating Malfoy, against your parents' wishes, not to mention his parents'._

. 

Ginny paused, taking a deep breath and pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. She wasn't prepared for the diary to be so forthcoming, and now information was flooding her mind, feelings of guilt, feelings of anger, but not pity. She smiled and tilted her head back. The high stone ceiling of the common room was alive with dancing shadows cast by the many flickering torches on the wall. It gave the illusion of being enchanted, and was managing to hypnotize her. Her mind began to wander, recalling one of the many arguments she's had with her parents... 

_"Virginia Weasley, you're much too young to be thinking this seriously about boys." What Molly Weasley meant to say was that she shouldn't be thinking seriously about Draco Malfoy -- ever. _

_"Mum, I'm fifteen. I know you think of me as your baby, but face it; I'm growing up." Ginny flashed her prefect pin, which only made her mother even more furious. A howler in front of the school would have been easier to deal with than a scolding from her mother about how bad the son of Lucius Malfoy was. _

_"I forbid you." _

_"To what?" She was just about fed up with this treatment. "To see the good in someone?" Molly Weasley was speechless, but it did no good. It only allowed a break in the argument for her father to cut in. _

_Arthur Weasley was more levelheaded and spoke rationally, but he only repeated what his wife said. It didn't matter to Ginny though; she just wasn't in the mood to have this conversation with her parents on platform nine-and-three-quarters. Ginny stood with her shoulders set and her arms folded across her chest, mimicking her mother's stance to prove she could be every bit as intimidating. She lacked the shrill voice that her mother had honed through the years of scolding six older brothers, and relied more on the critical thinking skills inherited from her father. She was quickly learning that the most effective way to counter her mother's arguments was to make her stop and think. Unfortunately, their row had already drawn several passing glances from the other students, and their parents, including Draco's. _

_Without another word, Ginny gave her parents each a kiss on the cheek and stepped onto the nearest car. Once out of sight of them, all she wanted to do was scream, but there were too many students around, and she had to keep her composure. She was a fifth year prefect after all. _

_Ginny made her way up to the front car where she knew Draco would be. She had seen him board already which was the reason the argument had begun. She took a seat next to Draco and he slung his arm around her shoulder allowing her to rest her head on his chest. He must have known about the argument she just had because as they sat together in their own world, he whispered to her, "I'm here for you," and gently kissed her forehead. So a Gryffindor and a Slytherin were friends...more than friends. It couldn't have been the first time. _

_"Do you to mind?" Ginny heard Hermione ask as she walked into the car. _

_"We're both prefects, Granger. Is there some rule against us sitting together?" Draco didn't wait for her to answer. "And not that I really care, but shouldn't 'prefect Potter' be up here? Or did he not want to leave Weasley alone?" _

_Ginny nudged in his side Draco then looked over at Hermione who seemed worried about something. _

_"I need to talk to you, Ginny." _

_"If it's about the scene my mother made, I don't want to hear it." _

_"No, it's," Hermione scanned the car realizing everyone was staring at them. "Follow me." _

_Reluctantly Ginny stood up, but gave Draco a kiss on the cheek before she left the car with Hermione. They passed Cho on the way through the train, and she made a point to remind them that as Head Girl, she wanted to speak to all the prefects after the train left the platform. Ginny could tell that Hermione wasn't the least bit interested in listening to Cho. Instead, she pulled on Ginny's arm and led her to a compartment about halfway down the train. _

_Sitting quietly inside were Harry and Ron. Harry's arms were wrapped around his stomach, and he was hunched over. _

_"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Ginny. _

_Harry shook his head, Hermione looked concerned, and Ron just rolled his eyes saying, "I told you not to eat that fourth chocolate frog." _

_Harry sighed. "It wasn't the candy, although the compost flavored bean didn't help." _

_"Ron, you always know the right thing to say, don't you? Just come with me." Hermione pulled on the sleeve of Ron's pullover and lead him out of the compartment. Ginny took a seat across from Harry. _

_"Ginny, I wanted to ask you something?" Harry said quietly just as the door closed. _

_If this was going where she thought it was, it would be short and she'd soon be storming out of the compartment. She nodded after thinking for a moment. _

_"Do you love Draco?" _

_"Didn't we go through this already. Ron put you up to this, right? My mum?" Ginny huffed and shook her head. _

_"No, and I don't think she had the right lecture you on the platform like that. _

_"Do you love him?" Harry persisted. _

_"I told you I have feelings for him, and he cares about me." It was the truth, although she wouldn't admit that her mother was right and that she was too young to know what true love was. _

_"Do you trust him?" _

_That was a different story, and she thought she'd made her point at the Burrow that summer. She stood up, ready to leave, but there was something about the way he looked at her that made her sit back down. "Of course I trust him, Harry. You know the tension that exists between my family and his, so for him to just defy his father like that and ask me out makes me believe that there is more to him than what everyone else sees." _

_"Is he really defying his father?" _

_"You better not be suggesting what I think you are." _

_"Just be careful." Harry's gaze fell to the floor..._

Ginny woke up to find the common room empty. After eight hours of sleep in the middle of the day, she still managed to doze off in a chair in the common room. Now she had a pinch in her neck, and her arm was starting to go numb. After changing positions, she continued reading, no longer bothering to hide the diary in her Arithmancy book. 

. 

_I spoke to Malfoy on the train the day we left for Hogwarts. After you spent the whole summer telling me how much he meant to you (which I thought was amazing for someone so young) I had to make sure he wasn't going to hurt you. Malfoy did have a bit of a reputation although I'm sure most of it was exaggerated on the Gryffindor side of the school. Before he told me to sod off and stay out of his business, he gave me several reasons why he wanted to be with you. In a brief moment of weakness, if you wanted to call it that, he admitted that he wanted your family to accept him. I had never seen him so sincere before, but then he promptly returned to being a smug git and that's when he dismissed me. It was a shame Ron couldn't have witnessed Malfoy's behavior. Maybe then he would see what you see in him. _

_The morning after the welcoming feast, my head was swimming from the excitement of being back at Hogwarts. At least I thought that was it until I blacked out in charms. Ron took me to the hospital wing, but I sent him back to class telling him I'd met up with him during Divination. Madam Pomfrey was immediately concerned, and called Dumbledore down. They sent me off to Divination without telling me what they were worried about. In a horrible twist of irony, Trelawney foresaw my death. For the record she said I'd be shot with a Muggle shotgun on a deserted moor. She was way off. The whole class, even Lavender and Parvati rolled their eyes at the _prediction_. I did as well, but in the back of my mind I couldn't stop thinking about what Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey would not tell me. _

_After that everything moved rather quickly. Dumbledore called me into his office the next day to tell me what he thought was wrong. Then after Snape did some tests on my blood, he found traces of the potion. Once that was confirmed, Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on and why the potion was given to me. He planned to put me into hiding under the Fidelius Charm. Unfortunately, before we could do that, I received a letter threatening my family, friends, and their families. The fire at the Dursley's house was not an accident; they were target by Death Eaters and were to serve as an example of what could happen it I didn't come forward. I couldn't bear for anything like that to happen your family or the Burrow, and, yes, I even felt bad for the Dursleys. We immediately began working on the diary so that if Voldemort lived, I could still be used against him. _

_I was not created to spout off words of regret, but I won't let that stop me from apologizing to you. I wish I could change how I did things. I could have looked past the pity if it meant my friends were there to comfort me. It was lonely. I wish I could have told you all this in a different way, or at least to your face. _

_I'm sure there is more I could say and eventually it will all come out. I hope you understand why I chose you. _

. 

Ginny turned the next page to see that it was blank. When she turned back, all the previous pages were empty. 

"Thank you, Harry," she said and closed the empty book. 

.~*~. 

Morning classes only served to frustrate Ginny. The relief she felt after the diary told her everything was short lived. She now felt an overwhelming guilt for being impatient and above all careless. Something she had done allowed Lucius Malfoy to find out about the diary and now she looked on everyone with suspicion. 

She only wrote in her room, a quite corner of the library, near the edge of the forest, or sitting on her favorite rock by the lake. In the beginning, unfortunately, she hadn't been so careful about who saw her writing and did almost anywhere. Then one day just before a prefects meeting Cho walked up behind her and made a comment about the Chamber of Secrets after seeing her write, and the diary respond. Ginny did her best to be indifferent about it, but inside it made her nervous. No one was supposed to know about what happened in the Chamber, or that Tom Riddle was using the diary to act through her. Harry's diary later confessed to telling Cho about it during the brief time they dated during his fifth year. Ginny was mildly relieved, but became more discrete about where she wrote. 

The library was becoming increasingly crowded at the term progressed, yet her quiet corner was still unoccupied. It was cold, dark, and a little too close to the Restricted Section, but candles and a warming charm created a comforting ambiance, if you didn't mind the occasional muffled scream from a cursed book. Ginny leaned back in her chair after charming it with extra cushioning. She was sore from falling asleep sideways in an armchair and her knees and shoulder ached from the fall she'd taken in the forest the day before. 

Before she could even think about her schoolwork, Ginny pulled out the diary. 

. 

~ Thank you. 

_Is there any more I can tell you?_

~ There is, and I'll get to that. I just wanted to tell you that I think I finally understand why you did things the way you did. I can't say that I agree with them, but then it doesn't matter anymore. We've moved past excuses and into apologies. I owe you one because of my carelessness. You've shown just how much trust you have in me, and I made a mistake. It will never happen again, I swear. 

_You don't need to apologize._

~ Yes I do. 

_It would make you feel better? _

~ Yes. I will do all I can to find out how Draco's father knew about this diary. I owe you that. 

_None of that matters anymore, Virginia. _

~ Why? I'll never know who I can trust. I already feel uncomfortable around my classmates and this is one more thing to alienate me. 

_I can't stop you from searching to give you piece of mind, but do be careful. Whoever was responsible was discrete. Not even Dumbledore knows how it happened. _

~ I'll be careful. 

. 

Ginny leaned back, tickling her chin with the end of her quill. The creaking chair protested being used as she rocked back on two legs. She often did this when she was deep in thought, this time was the exception. She wasn't thinking about anything except the building pool of candle wax perched precariously at the lip of the brass sconce. She exhaled deeply directing it at the flame. Seconds later a final drip sent the wax spilling over the edge and spattering on the tabletop. 

_One final drip_, she thought. _One final step._

With a sudden lurch, she leaned forward. The sound of the front chair legs hitting the stone floor echoed in the quiet alcove. 

. 

~ How do I do it? Not that I'm ready, but will you explain to me the final step to me? 

_Yes._

~ Well? 

_When the time comes, all you have to do is write your full name on the first page of this book. It seems like a simple step, but had you tried it before any of the others were completed, it wouldn't work. Once you've done this, the process begins. Each time you write in the diary, I give power to you. It will be slow and subtle and it will not be like Tom Riddle's diary. Let me repeat that: It will not be like Tom Riddle's diary. You will have my abilities, my protection against Voldemort, and my inexplicable yet useful immunity to certain Unforgivable curses. _

~ And you won't take physical form at my expense like Tom did? 

_Briefly, if I'm needed, and even then it won't kill you. _

~ I think I know the answer, but here goes. I realize that the diary is only part of the plan. How do I get close enough to Voldemort once I've completed the last step? 

_Your relationship with Draco, his tolerance of his father, and his father's position in the Death Eater circle. _

~ Care to explain? You're being a bit cryptic. 

_Everyone knew Wormtail was at Voldemort's side, but no one respected him, especially Voldemort. Hiding out as a rat for twelve years did nothing for his social standing. Lucius on the other hand had strategically placed himself in the Ministry. He had the legitimate political connections Voldemort wanted and as a result, Lucius was given a higher position among the Death Eaters. Plus he is a powerful Dark Wizard. _

~ So now I'm expected to strategically place myself in the Malfoy clan? I can't stand that man, and the diary is not safe near him. 

. 

Ginny didn't wait for a response. 

. 

~ Yes, I love Draco, but what you are saying, well, it's asking a lot. 

_You are a Gryffindor. _

~ I was afraid you would say that. 

_Sorry I had to play that card. But you are strong, and you wouldn't just do something because I told you. If that was the case, I never would have given this book to you. _

~ You are right, I never would just _do_ anything blindly, but you make an interesting point. Eventually I will write my name in this book because I have not been given a choice. I will have done so because you told me to, and I won't have a choice in the end. 

_You do have a choice. You could destroy this diary. _

~ How, I thought that was impossible. 

_Only a curse by you will expel me from these pages. _

~ And you know I could never do that. I witnessed your murder; I'm not about to cause the rest of you to die. Some choice. 

. 

Ginny closed the book, not waiting for the diary to respond. A debate on the morality of choices was not something she was in the mood for. She charmed the book, stuffed it in the bottom of her bag, and pulled out her Muggle studies book. She didn't actually read it, just flipped through the pages glancing at all the pictures of ordinary Muggle items that wizards seemed to be fascinated with. 

In the morning, Ginny went directly to the Headmaster's office. She had thought about the diary more than she had actually slept that night. 

"Candied Apple," she said to the stone gargoyle. The statue lurched into motion causing a low-pitched rumble of stone scraping against stone. 

Dumbledore was reading the Daily Prophet and set it aside as Ginny approached his desk. 

"Miss Weasley, you are looking well today." 

"Thanks Professor, I fell much better." 

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled, and a slight smile could be seen under his beard. "Have a seat. Are you here as Head Girl, or Hogwarts student?" 

"Neither," she said. "Keeper of Harry's diary, actually." 

"Oh?" his bushy white eyebrows lifted, as did his spectacles. 

"Harry, the diary, told me everything, including the safeguards. So naturally I'm concerned with the last one. I still don't know how close I am to making a decision," she smirked, remembering that her only choice was at what point she would go through with the last step. She didn't consider destroying the diary a choice. "When does this need to happen?" 

"I am pleased to hear that you are taking your time with this, and I know you will think this through logically before making a decision. That is why Harry chose you." 

"I know," she whispered. "I'm a little unsure of how to--position myself effectively. What exactly--" Ginny paused and stared with big eyes at the Dumbledore. 

Dumbledore sighed. "Only what is necessary." 

The Headmaster was not sounding very reassuring. 'Only what is necessary' could mean a lot of things, most of them undesirable. 

"And what about Harry's wand? It was snapped in half, and buried with him." 

"Your wand will be most useful in this matter." 

"Why? If Harry's abilities are in me, wouldn't his wand be best?" Ginny was confused, an unfortunate condition that was dominating her life at the moment. 

"Did Harry ever tell you that his wand was the brother wand to Voldemort's?" She noticed him momentarily turn his head toward his Phoenix. 

"He did, but what does that mean?" 

"Their wands' cores were taken from Fawkes here. Brother wands cannot face each other in a duel, so you see, your wand will be more effective." The blood drained from Ginny's face. Dumbledore was implying she would have to duel Voldemort. Not an item on her _List of things to do before I die, _but certainly topping her _List of things that will make me die._

"I can't..." she said, but in her heart she knew it would mean letting Harry down. "...just yet." 

.~*~. 

As the Hogsmeade weekend approached, Ginny became more and more exhausted from lack of sleep. "I can't do it," she would say, waking up from a nightmare. Every night, the same one: surrounded by everyone who ever cared about Harry telling her that if she denied this, she would betray Harry's memory. She tried to tell her roommates that she was having nightmares about taking N.E.W.T.s; those she could have handled. Looming over her was a twenty ton weight ready to come crashing down on her if she failed. She had to do something, and was hoping Draco would have the answer, or at least a few comforting words. 

After a quick breakfast, Ginny left for Hogsmeade. She wasn't alone; several eager third years, who had finally realized that Hogsmeade weekends made convenient dates, were also headed down to the village, but they were several steps in front of her. Bits of chatter between the young students caught her ear, reminding her of her first Hogsmeade weekends. The atmosphere was different then. The isolated Death Eater incident at the Quidditch World Cup was forgotten as the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students arrived for the Triwizard Tournament. She was still pining for Harry, and Draco was Malfoy--just another Slytherin. 

Harry stayed at the Burrow for half of the summer the year after the tournament, and she became closer to him. Once they were back at school, being near Harry inevitably brought her closer to Draco. She never appreciated how he insulted her family, and was determined to make him think differently of them. 

_How very Slytherin of you,_ Draco used to tell her. 

And one then day, Draco finally saw her for who she was. Although she was barely fifteen, she knew there was more to her fixation with the Slytherin. Forbidden fruit? No, a complex soul who only to opened up to her. His attitude toward the rest of the world hadn't changed, and her brother hated Draco more than anything, even spiders. But all she saw was someone who loved her because of her smile, because she could never manage to part her hair evenly, because her voice became higher when she was nervous. She couldn't let their brief falling out earlier in the week destroy what they had. 

A broad smile grew on her weary face, and as she saw Draco's familiar profile casually waiting for her by the gate. Of course there was nothing casual about him that day. Suddenly she felt plain in her thick school cloak next to his emerald green robes. The sun was low in the sky, painting the high wisps of clouds a light pink. A warm feeling rushed through her when she took Draco's extended hand. 

Sincerity had returned to his face, and the events from earlier in the week were almost forgotten. He kissed her on the cheek and she kissed him on his lips while slipping her hand from his to take his arm. Ginny held his arm tight resting her head against it and letting him lead her down the road into the village. "Thank you," she whispered, but when he asked what for, she simply smiled, and squeezed his arm. 

"Does this mean you feel better about what happened this week?" 

"No," she said coldly then lightened her tone. "I know why you did it though, and I've had plenty of time to rationalize it." 

They walked around Hogsmeade, talking here and there, but never once letting go of each other. This was the side of Draco she knew, perfect gentleman, not like the stranger who lead her though the forest, but a friend. They finally entered the Three Broomsticks after spending over an hour in the crisp spring air. He held the door and ushered her in placing his hand on her shoulder as she stepped over the threshold. The volume of the establishment dropped as they entered, not an uncommon reaction especially since Draco looked like a younger version of his father. 

They chose a quiet corner, as quiet as any place could be on a Hogsmeade weekend, particularly a cold one. Ginny ordered a hot apple cider to take the chill off of the morning, and Draco, his usual scotch now that he was old enough to drink. She would be able taste it on his lips when she kissed him -- something she savored but never admitted to liking. 

"It's ten o'clock in the morning Draco, isn't it a bit early for that?" she said, drawing her lips in a line. 

"It's just a scotch," Draco said innocently. Ginny raised her eyebrows. "It's been a long week." Draco took a sip of his drink. 

"Oh?" Her eyes narrowed. Maybe it was the scotch, maybe it was fatigue, or maybe just a matter of time, but something snapped inside. She had bottled up all her tension, and let it explode in Draco's face. "You think it's been a long week? You have no idea what I've been through." 

"People are watching." 

In a passive aggressive tone (more aggressive than passive, though), she simply said, "I don't care." 

"Well, I do, so keep your voice down." She felt his leg tangle around hers at the same time he took her hands. She tried to pull them away but he only held them tighter. 

"And you don't want your reputation tarnished by an argument with your girlfriend?" Again she tried to pull back. "Let go," she said through her gritted teeth. 

"Not until you tell me what's going on? Just this morning you told me you understood, and now you're mad again?" 

When she couldn't answer him, he only drew her closer. She was almost pulled off her chair. Several tables full of students were looking in their direction; she could almost hear the gossip formulating in their minds. In her brief distraction, Draco leaned forward and kissed her. There was no meaning, no passion, and no purpose behind the kiss other than to shut her up. "I'm not angry with you," she finally whispered in his ear. "I'm just...confused." 

"Why?" 

"The diary." Ginny sat back in her chair, Draco let her. Her eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at him. "The other day...a lot of things were said." Draco nodded, looking guiltily back at her. "I know you saw what was written, that he doesn't trust you. Are you jealous?" 

Draco closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths before opening his mouth to offer his explanation. "I've always been jealous of Potter, and though I tried to hide it, everyone knew. I also know he didn't trust me, but I didn't trust him." One corner of his mouth began to turn up. 

"What?" 

"I _do_ have one thing Potter didn't. You're my girlfriend." 

"Right then, we'll see," Ginny smirked. "So how do you plan on making it up to me?" 

"I'm going to marry you." 

Ginny's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. Was he saying what she though he was saying? The volume in the room increased, but everyone might as well have been speaking Gobbledegook because all the heard was Draco saying, not asking, that he would marry her. 

"Oh really?" she finally said, her voice cracking. "Have you asked my father yet?" 

"No, but would it matter?" 

"Of course," she said as if it was completely obvious, but then jokingly replied, "But he'll probably say no." 

"Well, I'm not asking just yet, I mean I don't even have a ring." Draco was unusually nervous, she could tell it in his voice. That, and he was biting his bottom lip like a little kid asking for candy. "This probably isn't the best time to ask you, not after we've had a fight." 

"Everything in it's own time," Ginny said softly. "My parents will come around." She held Draco's hands tightly, and he did the same. "You know I'll be expecting fireworks and fairy lights when you finally ask me properly." She gave him a coy smile, and looked down at their interlocked fingers. 

_Mum will be furious,_ she thought. 

.~*~. 

Next chapter: Do Draco and Ginny get married? Will she hyphenate her name? Will she agree to complete the last step with the diary? 


	5. Promises

**Summary****:** Draco is conflicted, Ginny writes in the diary, Lucius yells at his son, Narcissa nicks a personality, and Molly laughs. There's a house elf named Pinny, family photos, retching on foyer rugs, and a yellow beam of light. 

**A/N:** So here is Chapter 4 finally. My parents were visiting for my graduation so I couldn't exactly fit in my writing while playing hostess. But I love 'em so I'll dedicate this chapter to them. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know I enjoyed writing it, as my favorite character makes an appearance, two actually. Thanks again to Cezanne my brilliant beta, who also provided the opening quote. And to all my reviewers (listed at the end), thank you, it means a lot to know you're enjoying the story. Please keep them coming. 

**His Memories**

**Chapter Four**

**Promises**

_Between a blurred sagacity  
That once had power to sound him,  
And Love, that will not let him be  
The Judas that she found him,  
Her pride assuages her almost,  
As if it were alone the cost,--  
He sees that he will not be lost,  
And waits and looks around him.  
_~_Eros Turannos_ by Edwin Arlington Robinson

_Eighteen months later... _

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Draco asked. Ginny smiled at the floating head of her fiancé surrounded by crackling orange-red flames in the fireplace. 

"No, I've already taken the last of my things to the Burrow, and everything else I own is at the new house. I need to turn in my key to the landlord and I also have a few things to pick up at Diagon Alley. I'll see you at the Manor in a half an hour." 

"A half hour," he said quickly, but it almost sounded like a question. His eyes seemed to dart around what ever room he was in on the other end of the Floo. 

"Well, yes," she replied, giving him a quizzical glance. "Is everything all right? You seem a bit distracted." 

"Er, oh that, there was a house elf in the room." His eyes returned to her and he forced a half smile. "Take your time." 

"Sure. Well, I'll see you soon. Bye, love," 

"Oh, bye," he said looking distracted again. 

"Draco," she snapped. "I love you." 

His head snapped forward and he stoically replied, "I love you too, Virginia." 

"That didn't sound sincere," she drawled. 

Draco's expression lightened. "Would you like me to prove it?" 

"Of course," she replied, just before his head disappeared from the fireplace. 

Ginny stood there briefly, staring down at the fire. She could still see the outline of Draco's head in the flames for few seconds after he vanished. Grinning broadly at the prospect of him 'proving it,' she slowly made her way over to the window to look down onto the street where crowds of wizards were walking in and out of the shops on Diagon Alley. She would miss living in the middle of wizarding London. 

At first she was apprehensive about moving away from home right out of school, leaving the familiar surroundings of the Burrow for a bustling city. For practical reasons, she conceded to moving into the small, high ceiling flat. Her apprenticeship was at Slug and Jiggers in Diagon Alley, and the thought of taking the Floo five days a week sickened her. Several months later, when she passed her test with the Department of Magical Transportation and obtained her license, she could have easily moved back to the Burrow and Apparated to London everyday. She could have, but didn't want to. 

Draco, who was still living at Malfoy Manor, helped her with the rent, which allowed her to live over the Apothecary shop where she worked. It gave them privacy when they wanted it, and also meant that Ginny could stay away from the Manor. The less time she had to spend around Draco's father the better. She was certain he knew she witnessed Harry's murder, but he never mentioned it directly. 

_What will it be like when we are married?_ she thought, fingering the engagement ring on her finger. 

Finally, Ginny turned and walked to the door. Her footsteps on the creaky wooden floor echoed in the small, but empty space. Just before she left the room, she extinguished the flames in the fireplace and shut the door behind her. 

Ginny emerged onto Diagon Alley through a door sandwiched between Madam Malkin's and the shop where she worked. No sooner had she stepped onto the cobblestones was she accosted by one of the last people she was in the mood to tolerate. 

"Ginny Weasley, how long has it been?" 

Forcing a smile, Ginny straightened and slowly turned to face her old Hogwarts roommate Beth, who was waving exuberantly from two shops down. Six months, she thought, but apparently ages ago from Beth's perspective. She grumbled beneath her smile as she casually waved back at her hypocrite ex-housemate. Beth's loathing for the Slytherin House was rivaled only by her brother Ron, but two months after they left Hogwarts, she married Justin Baddock, a Slytherin who was four years older than her. 

Ginny attended the wedding. Not because she was in the same house as the bride but because Draco's mother was Justin's second cousin. Suddenly Beth assumed she and Ginny were the best of friends, and insisted that they would be "just like sisters" once Ginny and Draco were married. Actually, Ginny was in no need of more siblings and was still trying to think of the best way to tell Beth that they were simply relatives by marriage. 

The look on Beth's face as she walked toward Ginny could only mean one thing: she really wanted to brag about something and Ginny was the unfortunate soul who had to hear it. 

"Beth, you're looking well," Ginny said, with no feeling. Actually, she did have one feeling: nausea. Beth ignored her tone. 

"Thank you. Although-" she started. 

Ginny signed inwardly, knowing what was about to come. 

"I've been feeling ill, nothing serious. Nothing that won't be cleared up in another seven months." If it was possible, Beth was smiling even more than when she first approached Ginny. Of course Ginny knew what she meant, and out of courtesy, she smiled back, letting Beth say, "I'm having a baby," then proceeded to elaborate more than Ginny cared to hear. She barely had the opportunity to slip in a "congratulations" between a description of the nursery and several baby names she was thinking of. 

"I know I still have a while, but I just can't get over this. I wanted to do it sooner, but Justin said we needed to wait until the loan from Gringotts came through and we could move into the house. You should see it. It's this beautiful brick two-family outside Edinburgh." Beth stopped briefly to catch her breath. "You and Draco should come up from Cardiff to visit after your wedding." 

Ginny broke her streak of smiles and nods to shoot Beth a curious glance. "How did you know?" 

"Oh," she said, her eyes darted left and right, as if she was searching for an explanation. "Justin mentioned it. When do you move in?" 

"Most of our things are there, but we won't be living there until after the wedding," 

"Which is next month," Beth interrupted. 

Ginny couldn't help but smile. She hadn't begun to feel nervous about the approaching date, but was fairly certain that once she was living at the Burrow again, her mother would go on and on about the details of the ceremony and reception. She would have no shortage of pixies fluttering around in her stomach then. 

"Yes, that's right," was all Ginny said. 

"Oh, you'll just love what we got you for a wedding present, but I won't spoil the surprise for you." 

"Thank you." Ginny's face was beginning to ache from her forced pleasantries. The conversation she was having, while seemingly normal, was becoming tedious to Ginny. No sooner had Beth married Justin did she feel the need to owl or Floo Ginny at least once or twice a week. It was irritating, especially the suggestive way she spoke about Draco. The thought of it made her cringe: Beth, a married woman and someone she couldn't stand, subtly (but not really) making passes at Draco. The only reason Ginny never said anything before was because the letters had stopped coming six months ago and Beth all but dropped out of existence. Her little holiday certainly didn't change her personality, and she was still as annoying as ever. 

"Well, I must be off. Justin will be home shortly and I want to be there waiting for him. Do tell Draco I say 'hello.'" Ginny gritted her teeth at the way Beth gave two syllables to the 'o' in 'hello' and merely nodded. "I'll have you to tea before the wedding if you can manage to slip away." 

"That may not be possible," Ginny said. _Ever, _was what she wanted to tack on to the end of her sentence. 

"Well then, owl me after the wedding," Beth said with a smile as she walked away. 

Ginny sighed as she walked into the Apothecary to give the key to her flat to Agnes, the older witch who had owned the shop since 'before Muggles used otter-mobeels.' Ginny tried once to correct the witch with the proper pronunciation and received a lecture about respecting her elders, followed by the admission that she was a Muggle-born and had always enjoyed mispronouncing Muggle objects just because she could. 

"My dear, you're certainly dressed up. Who's the lucky gentleman?" 

Ginny laughed. Agnes knew perfectly well _who_ but always managed to make small, pointless jokes about her slipping memory. 

"Yes, well you just make sure he takes good care of you." The older woman smiled warmly at Ginny and took the key. 

"Oh, I know he will," she said, making a mental note to ask Draco why he was distracted. 

.~*~. 

Draco turned his attention from the fireplace where Ginny's head disappeared to his father, who was still pacing casually through his study. His deep green robes swirled behind him with each turn. Draco would have found the pacing hypnotic had his mind not been whirling with the news his father had given him. It hit him like a Bludger to the stomach and it was all he could think of. Ginny knew he was distracted and would ask him about it later. The trouble was, he couldn't imagine a simple way to explain it to her. 

Even after Voldemort returned, it didn't seem real that his fate had already been decided. Draco wanted nothing more than to take a job with the Ministry and raise a family. He could still have that, and would along with his service to Voldemort. 

Draco had been raised with a strong sense of family pride, pride in pure wizarding blood, pride in what he could become if he applied himself. He'd been a prefect and head boy, the top student in his house, and would have been in the entire school had it not been for Granger. He was the seeker and captain of the team that took the Quidditch cup during his last three years at Hogwarts, and the house cup during his last year. He should be proud--he was--but now he had to face reality, his reality. 

Without warning, Lucius stopped and turned to face his son. 

"There is no yes or no, Draco. I did not ask you a question, I simply told you what _will_ happen." Lucius' cheeks reddened, but he maintained his steadfast composure. "It would seem that I've been to easy on you." 

Now it was Draco's turn to pace. What he wanted to say was 'How did you feel when you found out you'd be serving Voldemort?' but quickly squashed that thought when he realized he father probably sought out the dark wizard. 

"You've always known this would happen." 

Continuing to pace, Draco answered the question in his mind over and over before he finally spoke. Once he did, he regretted it. Then he cursed himself for regretting anything. 

"That doesn't mean I wanted it to happen." It was quite possibly the worst thing he could have said to his father, along with 'I've turned you in; the Ministry Aurors are on their way.' 

"How dare you presume any of this is your choice!" Lucius yelled. The words meant nothing to Draco. He could presume all he wanted, and he certainly didn't have to follow his father or the Dark Lord with unquestionable allegiance. Draco coldly stared back at his father, whose slate-gray eyes fell upon him as narrow slits of disdain. This was not the reaction Lucius was seeking. The line of his lips was so sharp he could have sliced a diamond in half. 

"How long do I have?" Draco asked with absolutely no feeling. 

"You see this as a death sentence, do you?" 

"Yes," Draco replied before he could think about what his answer meant. "I mean no," he corrected himself. 

"Keep up this indecision and it _will_ be a death sentence." 

"Father, " Draco said, adding just a little emotion to his tone. He could sense the familiar aggravation in his father's voice. "I believe that if I went into this without questioning your intentions, _his_ intentions, and what is expected of me, that you would be disappointed in me." 

Lucius interrupted with an incoherent outburst but Draco continued. Lucius would wait until the young man was finished with his diatribe to twist his words around, making him feel as though he was betraying his family by not accepting his fate among the Death Eaters. Draco was used to this. 

"I am an adult, I can make my own decisions. I'm getting married, Virginia and I will start a family. If she wants to continue to work, she may; if she decides to keep her last name, she may. If--" Draco couldn't finish, because at that moment, Lucius exploded with more force than a botched potion. 

"I will not stand for this!" Lucius said as he slammed his hand down on the oak desk. The sound reverberated through the high vaulted ceiling. "Have you learned nothing?" Draco could tell his father was going to enjoy this scolding. 

"First off, never question the Dark Lords intentions. Second, never question my intentions. You may technically be an _adult_ but you have yet to prove that you know how to bahave like one. If you succeed at your task, I may rethink this. But before that happens let her know you are in control because clearly she hasn't a clue." 

Draco bit his lower lip to keep from snapping back at his father. Lucius saw this, sneered, and continued. "No self respecting Malfoy would let this happen, no self respecting pureblood would let this happen." 

"She _is_ a pureblood." 

"I said self respecting," Lucius snapped. If Draco had been at his father's desk, he would have slammed his hand down. 

"She has just as much self res--" 

Lucius interrupted and continued as if Draco hadn't been trying to defend Virginia. 

"I've tried to be patient and not interfere, but it seems I can't trust you to do anything on your own. You cannot let her walk all over you like this." 

"I would hardly call this walking all over--" Draco's voice came across as quiet and expressionless against his father's. He tried to continue but Lucius drowned out his words. He seemed to be intent on not letting Draco finish any thoughts. 

"Then what would you call it?" Lucius interrupted. 

"It was a mutual decision, father," said Draco defensively. 

"Indeed," Lucius drew his lips into a line. "It appears to be more mutual on her part." 

There was a long silence broken only by the sound of Lucius crossing to the far side of the room. He purposefully plucked three books off the shelf, stirring up a halo of dust in the process. 

Draco kept his feet planted but followed his father with his eyes. His fists were clenched at his sides and he could feel his manicured nails digging into his palms. 

"Father, we've already decided that she'll keep her name," Draco said with conviction. His father spun on his heel and walked back to his desk. "The wedding is only two weeks away. We've already made the arrangements with the Ministry; she's keeping her name," Draco repeated for the sole purpose of further aggravating his father. He was successful. 

"I will not allow this!" Lucius yelled; the anger in his voice peaked again. 

"It's only a name," Draco said calmly. 

"Yes, only a name," Lucius hissed. "And why anyone in their right mind would want to keep _that_ name, I'll never know. This is perhaps the best thing that girl could have done and now she intends on wasting it? She'll soon realize you don't just throw the name Malfoy aside." 

"That's not what's happening." 

"Draco, you've lost all sense of family pride." 

"I have not," Draco refuted, "and neither has she." He found it incredibly illogical that his father refused to see that any other family than the Malfoy's could have a sense of loyalty. 

"Indeed," Lucius dropped the books on his desk, pulled out the green leather wing backed chair. As he sat, Draco turned to walk out the door. 

"Where do you think you are going?" Lucius drawled, not showing any sign that their conversation had caused an increase in his blood pressure, though it had several times. "I'm not finished." 

Draco accentuated his exhale to convey to his father how irritated he was. "What is it now? You clearly have other things you'd rather be doing." 

"That is true, but I'm trying to talk some sense into you, boy," Lucius let out a frustrated sigh but it was muted by Draco's outburst. 

"Don't call me that!" 

"I'll call you what you deserve to be called. And right now, you're being an ungrateful, spineless twit." This was his father's favorite tactic, especially as Draco got older. If he couldn't talk some sense into his son, he resorted to belittling him. "You had better change your attitude in the next two months or I'll find someone else to do this." 

"Two months?" Draco asked abruptly, his ears perking up at the mention of his deadline. 

Without looking up from the book, Lucius replied. "Yes, after you are married and have produced an heir." 

"What?" he said, indignant. "It takes more than two months, father." 

"I should hope not." His father raised only his eyes to look at him, which made his expression wholly condescending. Draco's feeling of apprehension increased and his father picked up on this. "You've already done it, haven't you." Lucius said without feeling and turned a page. Draco almost lost his balance at his father's bluntness. 

"What?" he repeated. 

"You're a terrible liar, Draco," he said shaking his head. 

Draco stood motionless, his legs locked, and he stared at a point past the opposite wall giving his eyes a glazed over appearance. 

Finally Lucius spoke. "Are you waiting for some fatherly advice? Or a little congratulations that you managed to do as you were told?" 

Draco shook his head but his father wasn't looking. 

"All I can say is that it had better be a son." 

Draco would have responded, but at that moment, there was a loud _crack!_ signaling the arrival of a house elf. Unfortunately, it was the worst possible time for the creature to appear in the room. Lucius pushed his chair out and fluidly rose to his feet. The elf shrunk to half its height as Lucius hovered over it with a threatening air and an Italian leather boot ready send it half-way across the room into a bookshelf. 

"What," Lucius hissed, "do you want?" 

The house elf squeaked, expecting to be beaten, but Lucius slowly lowered himself into his chair. 

"Well?" Lucius prompted. 

"M--master, Miss Weasley is--is in the foyer." 

Lucius lazily swept his gaze over the elf to Draco. "Leave," he said to both. The elf squeaked and disappeared. Draco straightened his posture and walked to the double-doors. 

"This is not over, Draco," Lucius said flatly as Draco pushed open the doors. 

"No," he whispered to himself, "it isn't." 

He paused momentarily then walked out into the corridor, pushing the doors shut. The sound of both doors hitting the jamb sending a shockwave down the corridor, which returned several octaves lower. Draco didn't notice it; he didn't notice anything, until he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. He froze, but what he wanted to do was take Virginia in his arms and run away, leave his father and his fate behind. 

.~*~. 

Ginny Apparated just down the hill outside the main iron gate of Malfoy Manor. She was expected, and a house elf promptly opened the gate. She walked the rest of the way along the flagstone path that lead up to the marble steps and mahogany doors. The doors creaked open slowly, and the same house elf allowed her into the entry hall. She was requested to wait while the elf informed Master Malfoy (that meant Draco, she hoped) that she had arrived. After ten minutes, she was bored and proceeded up the main staircase. She knew Draco was in his father's study the moment she reached the top of the stairs because she could hear him yelling. It wasn't very often that Lucius Malfoy raised his voice, however, he was in his own home and could speak at any volume he wished. 

"What?" she heard Draco say. Ginny could tell he was close to the door. If she walked two feet closer she would be able to see in the room through the gap between the two partly open doors. She quickly gathered that she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but she was very curious as to why Mr. Malfoy had been yelling. 

"You're a terrible liar, Draco." 

_What is he lying about,_ she thought. 

"Are you waiting for some fatherly advice? Or a little congratulations that you managed to do as you were told?" 

"All I can say is that it had better be a son." 

_"I'm pregnant?"_ she whispered, instinctively cradling her stomach. That explained it. She'd been feeling ill for almost three weeks. It was the last time she and Draco had been together. He was acting strange that whole night, but it never occurred to her that he was trying to get her pregnant. 

She didn't cry, not immediately. She couldn't decide on one emotion: confusion about why Draco didn't tell her, anger because his father seemed to know more about it than she though he should, joy at learning she was having a baby. Betrayal. She settled on betrayal and the tears began to fall down her cheeks. 

The arrival of the house elf startled her, and once she heard what the unfortunate creature said, she jumped to her feet and backed up toward the wall. There was no time to run back down to the foyer where she should have been waiting so she pressed herself against the wall, willing herself to be invisible (not that she could). She clearly wasn't supposed to hear what she did. 

"This is not over, Draco," she heard Lucius say. She jumped as the doors were flung open. 

"No, it's not," she heard Draco whisper as he emerged from the study, slamming the doors behind him. Ginny hesitated before finally stepping forward to where Draco was standing in the middle of the corridor with his arms crossed and head hung low. Ginny didn't like seeing Draco demeaned by his father, nor did he like knowing she had witnessed it. 

She had other things on her mind now. _How dare you do this without telling me?_ she thought. 

As quietly as she could, she approached him. The hallway would have been dark had it not been for the torches set in pewter brackets on the wall every ten feet on either side. The uneven lighting flickered in Draco's fair hair and caught the silver strands of thread woven into the black fabric of his robes. He didn't recoil as she brought her right hand up to his shoulder, running it down his arm and around front, lacing her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand gently and released it. He turned to look down at her, his eyes were dark and his cheeks were still flushed from the exchange he'd had with his father moments ago. 

She'd been crying, and hoped he would see it in her eyes. He did and wrapped his arms around her. It was a silent apology. He still had a lot of explaining to do, but his actions were a start. Ginny rested her head on Draco's shoulder, closed her eyes, and held him. Like touching a Portkey, she was pulled into a colorful swirl. But just as with a Portkey, she landed hard and without warning. Draco tensed, released her, and pulled away. 

After her delayed reaction, she turned to see Lucius with both hands on the double doors. His eyes were narrowed, and the loathing in his eyes reminded Ginny why she hated that man. Draco took another step away from Ginny, which made her rather uncomfortable. 

His silence was more than enough to make them both cower, like they had been caught doing something they shouldn't have done. After what seemed like hours, but was actually less than a minute, Draco's father pulled the doors closed. 

His father's silence had been enough for Draco to change his mood and once the door clicked shut, he forcefully spun Ginny around. 

"What were you doing up here?" 

"I--I just," she stuttered. Ginny couldn't comprehend the look on Draco's face. It wasn't him, it was as though that one last look from his father completely altered his attitude. Ginny rested her hands to her hips. 

Neither blinked until Draco finally spoke. "We'll be late for dinner," he said, motioning down the hallway. 

"I think my parents will understand if we're late," Ginny said through clenched teeth. "Right now I need an explanation from you." 

.~*~. 

_Two months later... _

The sun, still low in the east, was cutting through the distant trees scattering broken strips of diamonds across the untouched snow. The wind that had blown the clouds from the sky moved drifts of snow against the granite wall that surrounded the modest brick mansion. Ginny brought her arms in close, folding them across her chest. She shivered as she stared out the window of the second floor master bedroom at the crisp January morning. 

The door didn't creak as it was opened, but she could hear the tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap of Draco's shoes as he walked across the hardwood floor. 

"You're awake," he said, "Mrs. Malfoy." 

"I'm hyphenating, remember?" Ginny smiled. Draco laid his hand on her shoulder and ran it down the soft satin sleeve of her dressing gown, following it around to her front where he laced his fingers with hers. 

"And why is that exactly?" Draco asked in between affectionate kisses on her neck and cheek. Ginny turned her head to the right and leaned toward him. 

"To get your father hacked off." She smiled half-heartedly remembering Lucius' reaction when she finally conceded to the compromise. He wasn't pleased with her, not that she cared what he thought, but he did speak to Draco at length about asserting patriarchal dominance over his family. It didn't matter to Ginny what her surname was, but it was necessary for the diary to work properly, when she finally put her name in it. 

"Right then, I'll see you this evening." He kissed her dimple. "Remember dinner at the Manor tonight." With a soft pop, Draco Disapparated. 

Her smile disappeared with a heavy sigh when she realized she was alone in a large and unfamiliar house. Ginny and Draco had been living in the mansion, which was part of Draco's inheritance, since they returned from their honeymoon two days ago. The house was enormous, and she still hadn't been in every room. 

CRACK! 

Ginny gasped and jumped six feet, startling their house elf in the process. 

"Pinny is so sorry Mistress," the overly apologetic house elf raised her hand to snap and pop out of sight. 

"No, wait, you just startled me is all." This only frightened the house elf more. 

"Mistress is wanting breakfast now?" 

"Yes, please." 

CRACK! 

Ginny didn't jump as high but her heart was still pounding. It had only been two days since they moved into their new house, and she still wasn't used to the thought of having a house elf. In a house that size, however, it only made sense. She certainly didn't want to spend her days cleaning it. 

.~*~. 

~ Well, this is it. I can't Apparate anymore. I suppose I could go another month or so, but I don't want to risk losing the baby. 

_So you are feeling better about all this now?_

~ About the baby yes, but not about the way it happened. I wish he had told me what was going on. 

_I can't help but think that you are making this sacrifice because of my diary._

~ It's not a sacrifice. And I would hardly just go into this marriage if I didn't think there was something there. I love Draco. He is also in a difficult situation. He's made a few stupid mistakes, but was willing to give him a second chance. And a third, and a fourth. 

_What did you parents say? How much did you tell them?_

. 

Ginny hesitated. 

. 

~ I haven't told them yet. 

_You're kidding, right?_

~ No. 

_Why? They are your parents. I would've thought they would be the first people you told._

~ They will be, when I finally do. Mum would be disappointed that it happened before Draco and I were officially married. Yes, I know she'll figure it out. 

_You need to tell her soon or she'll feel hurt. Sensitive woman, your mum._

~ I know. 

_Take the Floo, right now. Go see her._

~ Without Draco? 

_That's probably the best way._

~ When did you become logical? 

_Four years of you writing in this diary._

~ Okay, I'll go, because I know you are right, but I reluctantly admit that. A Malfoy never admits to being wrong, but since I'm only one by marriage, I guess it's all right. But before I do 

_I already know what you are going to say. I know you too well._

~ Draco and I agreed that I should wait until after the baby is born for me to write my name on the first page. I hope you understand. 

_Of course I do._

. 

Ginny had cheered up considerably talking to the diary (she still talked while writing). Now she had to face her mother. It was a Friday afternoon, and Draco wouldn't be home for three more hours. She stood for several minutes in front of her wardrobe, trying to pick the best robes to wear to see her mother. 

"Something dark." she muttered to herself. "I don't want the soot from the Floo to dirty my best robes." She just wished that she could Apparate. Finally, she decided on dark maroon robes, no trim, not too flashy, but she hoped that the red in the robes would draw attention away from her hair. Her mother never did like the auburn. 

With their wedding photo album in her hand, she descended the main staircase to the foyer. She still couldn't get over the size of the house. It seemed unnecessarily large, but every room was filled with something, as if five families lived there. Ginny had to think for a moment where the Floo fireplace was. She knew it was in the dining room, which was the only fireplace in the house large enough to stand in, but she had to think about where the dining room was. 

She took a handful of Floo powder, and also a pouch with extra, just in case she had trouble getting back. She'd never taken the Floo to or from their new home yet. 

"The Burrow," she said slowly and clearly, and stepped into the flames. There was no turning back now. Molly Weasley let out a short scream as Ginny stepped out of the fireplace. She had been preparing dinner, and her back was turned when Ginny arrived. 

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" 

Not the greeting she was expecting. "I had to see you, mum," she choked, brushing some of the soot off of her robes. She didn't even get the chance to tell her mother why she was there. Molly knew more than she let on, but she also knew that Ginny was excellent at Apparition, and hated the Floo. 

"Oh, my dear, how far along?" Molly asked, but was uncharacteristically reserved. 

Ginny was caught off guard, she should have known that just popping in on her mother by Floo was a dead give-away. "Two months," she said, realizing that she was admitting that it all happened before she was married. Ginny smiled, unsure of how her mother would take the news. 

Molly took in a deep breath, then smiled. "That's just wonderful, dear. Can I get you some tea?" 

Ginny was uncomfortable with her mother's reaction. She nodded and took a seat at the kitchen table. 

Molly poured two cups of tea, and sat down across the table from her daughter. She opened the photo album, and began looking through the pictures. It was clear that Molly wasn't ready to talk about the baby just yet. She turned a couple pages, and stopped on one. Her mother's expression brightened and she laughed. Ginny knew she was looking at the family picture with all the Weasleys and all the Malfoys. 

"What?" Ginny asked. 

"Just picturing that poor photographer. I used to have a difficult time getting all of you kids to smile and stay still for a picture. Not that it matters, the way these things move. But, well, just look at this." Molly turned the book around, pointing out the look on Narcissa's face. "I didn't realize she hadn't smiled the entire time." 

Now Ginny was laughing. "Yes, that's my mother-in-law, and not the only grandmother I want my children to know." Ginny reached across the table and took her mother's hand. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner mum. I don't really have an excuse." 

"Don't worry about it; it's forgotten. I'll admit that I never expected my youngest child to give me my first grandchild." Molly was beaming now which made Ginny feel better about taking so long to tell her mother about the baby. 

They spent the afternoon talking about the wedding, the honeymoon in Greece, the new house, and of course, the baby. It was getting close to five, when Ginny finally said she needed to be going. 

"When Draco and I get settled in, we'll invite you to dinner. I'd like you to see the house, once I learn my way around it." 

"Well it sounds just lovely, dear, they way you've described it." 

"It's still too cold, but we've only been living there for a few days." 

"I wish you'd stay until your father gets home. He should really hear this from you." 

"I know, but I have to be going, Draco will be home soon." 

"Do his parents know?" 

Ginny felt a lump in her throat. "We're telling them tonight." 

"Well, then you better go," Molly said, followed by a uncomfortable, no, unbearable silence. Ginny pulled out the pouch of Floo powder. 

"Concord Place," Ginny said clearly, hoping it was the right thing to say to get back home. When her dining room appeared, she exhaled, blowing soot all over. Draco was standing next to the fireplace and wearing an impatient expression. 

"Virginia, where have you been? We have to leave in less than a half-hour." 

"What?" 

"Don't you remember me telling you that this morning?" 

"No." 

"Where were you?" 

"I...uh..." Ginny brushed out her robes. "I better get ready." 

Draco grabbed her arm. "Well?" 

"I was at the Burrow." 

"You told your parents? Without me?" 

"My mum figured it out the second I arrived by Floo. Draco, I had to tell her, she's my mother. I'll have you know that I just lied to her and said your parents didn't know yet. I don't plan on telling her that you're father knew about it before I did." 

"We don't have time for this right now," Draco said nervously. "You still need to change." 

"I'm not trying to argue," she sighed. "And I didn't mean to bring up your father." Ginny kissed him on the cheek and left the room. As she reached the top of the stairs, Draco yelled up. 

"Have you seen the wedding album? I've been looking for it for the last twenty minutes. My mother wanted me to bring it tonight." 

"Oh, that's right. I knew I forgot something." Ginny stopped and turned on the last step. "I left it at the Burrow." 

Draco crossed his arms. 

"Sorry. Why don't you just Apparate there to get it while I'm getting ready." 

"You want me to go to your parents' house, alone?" 

"I'm going to yours," she said with a smile. Draco Disapparated and she went to her room. The purple and silver robes she planned on wearing had already been laid out by the house elf, and all she really needed to do was take a shower, and charm some color on her face. Draco was back by the time she stepped out of the shower. 

"Did you get it?" 

"Well...yes." Draco was biting his lip. He looked like a scared fourteen year old. 

"What happened?" 

"Your father knows now." 

"I figured my mum couldn't keep it from him. I told her I would be there tomorrow." 

"Yes, and that's nice, but," Draco's eyes were darting around the room. "Apparently my father let the news slip this afternoon when he saw yours." 

"Damn. I told my mother we hadn't told you parents yet." 

"I know. So you better go there tomorrow and smooth things over, because whatever you told her this afternoon needs some explaining." 

Ginny sighed, then looked at the clock. "Can you tell your parents we'll be late?" 

"No, we are taking a Portkey, it leaves from the foyer in ten minutes. The manor is temporarily disconnected from the Floo Network right now," Draco explained. 

Ginny turned back to the mirror and using her wand, dried her hair, and charmed some curl into the ends. Five minutes later, Draco came back. He was wearing black velvet robes, with silver and purple to match Ginny's. He looked especially pale when he wore black. "I'm almost ready, love." Ginny double-checked her hasty make-up job, smacked the Muggle lipstick she had applied, and met Draco on the hallway. He was holding a small bed knob that she assumed was the Portkey. They were just in time, because after standing in the foyer for less than a minute, the hook behind her navel pulled them into a swirl of colors, and eventually into the Malfoy's foyer. 

Ginny held her stomach, feeling like she was going to be sick. 

"Virginia, are you alright?" 

"Yes." She swallowed. "I've just never taken a Portkey while pregnant." 

"Oh, I know how that feels. I tried it once when I was pregnant and Lucius was never able to convince me to do it again." Narcissa, who has apparently stolen some unfortunate person's pleasant personality, smiled and took Ginny's arm. "I have something that will make you feel much better." Narcissa lead her out of the foyer, and she looked back mouthing '_help_' in Draco's direction, but his father already distracted him. 

"Fifteen minutes Narcissa," Lucius said as she left the room. They were in the sitting room, which, despite the roaring fire, was frigid. Ginny shivered as she walked in, prompting Narcissa to cast a warming charm that did very little to actually warm. 

"Here, drink this," Narcissa said handing a goblet to Ginny. "The fireplace will be on the network next week, and you won't have to worry about another Portkey." Ginny held the concoction up to her nose then took a sip. It smelled like ginger, and tasted like dirt. 

"What is it?" she asked, handing the goblet back to Narcissa. 

"Just a potion to settle your stomach. I took it almost daily during my first trimester." 

The nausea from the Portkey was wearing off, but her mother-in-law's behavior was starting to make her ill. 

Dinner was delicious, but the company was something to be desired. It made her miss the noisy family dinners at the Burrow. Draco could see that Ginny didn't want to be there, but as the meal wore on, he paid less and less attention to her. Actually, he was paying less and less attention to everything. 

After dinner, they adjourned to the sitting room, where Lucius, after complaining how cold it was, cast another warming charm that finally made Ginny comfortable, temperature wise. The house elf brought Ginny and Narcissa Chamomile tea, and brandy for Draco and his father. It was almost worse than at dinner. They had run out of things to talk about half-way though second course, now all Ginny could do was count down the half-hour until the return Portkey activated (even though it would make her ill). She kept checking the mantle clock each time Narcissa turned a page of the photo album. 

One glass of brandy later, Lucius lead Draco out of the sitting room leaving Ginny alone with her mother-in-law. When Ginny asked where they were off to, Narcissa changed the subject back to the wedding album, and how wonderful the family photo had turned out. Narcissa was referring to the Malfoy-only one where she had actually managed to smile. 

Finally Draco came back in. Ginny stood up and walked over to him with a 'save me' look in her eyes. "Will you excuse us, mother? We have to leave in a few minutes." 

Narcissa walked them out to the foyer and Lucius was nowhere in sight. Not a moment too soon, they were gone. Unfortunately, this time the Portkey did make her sick--all over the foyer rug. With a crack, their house elf was there to clean up the mess. 

"I guess I won't be traveling like that for a while." She wiped her mouth with a towel Draco had conjured up for her. He helped her up to the bedroom, and into bed. Within ten minutes, she was sound asleep, only vaguely remembering a kiss on the forehead. 

.~*~. 

The room was completely dark when she finally woke up and reached over. But the other side of the bed was empty. "Draco?" she said, but there was no answer. "_Illuminus_," she murmured, and the light from the lamp next to the bed slowly intensified. She was alone, and hoping that Draco was just sleeping in another room because she had been ill. 

Ginny clapped, and the house elf appeared. "Where is Draco?" she asked. 

"Master Malfoy is not here. Master is leaving after Mistress is asleep," she said. 

"What!?" Pinny took a step back. "Do you know where he went?" she asked, but of course the house elf wouldn't know. 

Pinny was confused and hesitantly said, "Master is not saying anything to Pinny." 

_"He isn't saying anything to me either,"_ she mumbled 

"Mistress?" she said. 

"Could you bring me some water?" 

The house elf squeaked acknowledgement and left the room, returning in less than a minute with a pitcher and goblet. 

Ginny sat up, lost in thought as she drank the water Pinny had poured just before she left. 

Suddenly it hit her. "I know where he went." They had talked about it only a few times, but now, she knew. Ginny reached into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out the diary. 

~ He did it. 

_Did what? And who?_

~ Well, he's there right now, at least I'm sure he is. 

. 

Ginny explained the dinner and Draco's strange behavior, and the fact that it was one in the morning and he wasn't there. 

.

_But he didn't actually tell you._

~ I still know. It was only a matter of time. Don't tell me you are surprised. I though you were the one who told me Draco was going to do this, whether he wanted to or not. So I'm telling you that he's going through with it, right now. 

_I guess I knew, but just never thought about it actually happening._

_So did you tell your mother about the baby?_

"Shit," she said, but didn't write it. She still had to smooth things over after the trouble Draco's father caused. 

~ Yes, but I still have more talking to do. 

_How did she take it?_

~ She actually guessed, but there were some problems when my father got home. I need to go back there in the morning. I just wish I could Apparate there. I hate the Floo, and after the Portkey tonight, I would almost rather take a car, or the Knight Bus from now on. 

_I guess the hook behind your navel must feel strange when there is a baby in the way._

~ I can't even feel a baby yet, it's too soon, but I'm still nauseated. Sorry for the play by play of my pregnancy. I'll keep that to a minimum. 

_I'm a captive audience. You can tell me whatever you need to--you always have._

~ Then I'll tell you that I'm afraid for Draco. Yes, I know you don't trust him, but if he is where I think he is, I don't want to think about what's happening. I just hope that it's nothing too bad that the Ministry won't overlook it when this is all over. 

_Maybe he's just picking up a belated wedding present_

~ Oh, like congratulations on your wedding, here's a Dark Mark. It's not much, and you really can't share it with your wife, but 

_Something like that._

. 

Ginny abruptly set down her quill. What she wrote made her think. Draco was doing something he had confessed scared him to death. It suddenly seemed selfish of her to think that she was the only one making a sacrifice, and in that moment, she decided to make her life change. She picked up the quill again and turned to the first page. 

. 

~ It's about damn time we did something about that bastard. 

_What are you doing? Please tell me that it's been seven months and that you just haven't written anything since that night. It was a boy right? girl?_

. 

Ginny almost forgot that the diary had no real concept of time, only what she told it. 

. 

~ It is. 

_You are lying._

~ Virginia 

_It's not too late._

. 

Her name did not disappear, so she knew that it wasn't enough. She needed to add the rest. 

. 

~ Erin 

_Please_

~ Malfoy 

. 

The word "Malfoy" disappeared. Ginny dipped her quill, and for a brief moment considered closing the diary. 

. 

~ Weasley 

_Just think about if before you_

No. It has to be now. I'll be careful. 

. 

Her words dissolved and she slowly wrote: 

. 

~ -Malfoy 

. 

Before Ginny could do anything further, a beam of yellow light shot from the diary and hit her squarely in the forehead. She blacked out. 

.~*~. 

Thanks to all of you who took the time to review. It keeps me going, that and a lot of coffee, chocolate, and caramel. Reviewers on Schnoogle: **head_girl_granger, SlytherinPrincess821, edition1013, Alexa Malfoy, kinsel, smoo** (thanks for the suggestion about Draco, you inspired one of the scenes in this chapter), **Jenni Bundick, H_Dom, **and **13 Satanic Monkeys**; and on ff.net: **Alyssa Raven, nirvana, and Robyn Maddison.**


	6. Side Effects

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Summary:** Ginny has finally taken the last step toward unlocking the diary Harry gave her, now his memories, and eventually some unwanted side-effects manifest themselves. Her marriage to Draco may be suffering, she's pregnant, and Draco still has some family loyalty issues to work out, not to mention he snores. **  
A/N: **This was a WIP when OotP came out, and this chapter was written before then so I have not included any spoilers for book five. Time goes by quickly in this chapter, so be warned. Ginny is about 3 months pregnant at the beginning (the morning after what happened in the end of chapter 4), and 8 1/2 by the end.  
Thank you Cezanne for beta reading of this chapter. You did a wonderful job, as always, and if I was wearing a hat it would go off to you.

**His Memories**

**Chapter Five**

**Side Effects**

Nothing comes to exist from something that did not exist  
~ Nagarjuna 

_.~*~._

_"It happened again."_

_"Are they going to close the school?"_

_"What's Dumbledore going to do about it?"_

_"My father said they should set a Dementor after the one responsible."_

_"I'm not going anywhere alone. I'm not Muggle-born, but I'm a half blood."_

_"What's wrong, Ginny? You have nothing to worry about; you're a pureblood. Ginny. Ginny. Are you all right? You look like you've just had a run-in with You-Know-Who."_

_"Oh," Ginny squeaked, "I--er--I'm fine, a--a bit knackered."_

_The frightened eleven-year-old, still disoriented, walked heavy-footed up to the first year dormitory, almost tripping on the last step. Her room was empty, leaving her alone with Riddle in her head. _

_Always in her head. _

_She couldn't decide what was worse, Riddle, or hearing other students talk about something that _he_ was forcing her to do._

_"What have you done, Tom? What have _I_ done?" she whispered to the crimson bed hangings as she cried herself to sleep. _

.~*~. 

...For the fourth time, Ginny was pulled out of her restless sleep; glad to end another dream about her first year at Hogwarts, but not that it was the pain from an intensifying migraine that had woken her this time. The first had been the high-pitched screeching of a tree branch against the window when the wind picked up; the second had been when Draco climbed into bed; the third was when he began snoring; and now this. With the sun almost up, there was no way she'd be getting back to sleep. 

Staring blankly up at the midnight blue velvet bed curtains (much more pleasant than the ancient green ones they replaced) through half-open eyes she tried to clear the dream from her mind, and gather up the energy to get out of bed to fetch a pain-killing potion. When that plan failed miserably, she reached for her wand on the night table. _"Accio Magexcedrine,"_ she whispered and a few seconds later a bottle of viscous pale blue liquid (safe for consumption by pregnant witches) flew into her hand. 

She took one dose and set the bottle next to her wand, noticing now that the diary was laying on the table too. Staring at it, she wondered why she'd carelessly left it lying about. Her brain didn't need to search long for the reason and suddenly her migraine, which had already started to go away, renewed its intensity. She picked up the potion and took another drink, gripping the bottle as though someone might try to take it from her. Memories from the night before came flying at her like bludgers, and she had nothing to repel them with. 

_...my name..._

She loosened her grip on the bottle of pain-killing potion enough to where she could set it on the table. 

_...bright yellow light..._

She reached for the diary and held it tightly as her patchy memories streamed by. 

_...hit me..._

But it wasn't just her memories that were flooding her brain. 

_...You _knew_ I'm a -- a wizard..._

She loosened her grip on the book and it fell into her lap. 

_"Did I really black out?"_ she whispered, rubbing her forehead trying to sort out the new thoughts--Harry's memories. There were only a few, and she would realize later that more memories would come to her each time she wrote in the diary. 

Her hand brushed across the black zig-zag and her full, hyphenated name below it, looking like it had been written there all along. There was no mistaking that she had taken the final step toward unlocking the diary. 

_Did I do the right thing?_ she asked herself several times. What would Draco say, when--if--she told him? All she had to do was wake the sleeping form at her left and show him the diary. Would he tell her she should have waited until the baby is born, would he just say be careful, or would he be repulsed that his wife had the memories of his late enemy? 

_Perhaps I should have waited. No, I'm not having second thoughts, I'm just wondering what will happen next._

She closed the book and once again held it tightly, letting this new feeling rush over her. It was strange, it was a connection, it was a feeling that she was...protected? She had not been expecting these immediate effects, and all the times she asked Harry about what his mother did to protect him, she finally understood. Harry grew up with this ancient magic and never thought of how it felt. Now this magic encompassed her like a warm blanket. 

Riddle had drawn her into a false sense of security that eventually lead to nightmares. Only after a couple of years and constant reminders that the diary was truly gone was she able shove the horrible memories of a sixteen-year-old dark wizard to the back of her mind. 

Unbidden, they returned. Not because he still exerted some control over her, but because no matter how many times she told herself that Harry's diary was different, she remembered how easy it was the first time to be taken in by that manipulative wizard... 

She hoped she was doing the right thing; placing her trust in the memories of Harry Potter. After several minutes of staring at the cover as though it held the mysteries of the world (perhaps it really did), she stowed it away in her night table and turned her attention to her sleeping husband. 

A smirk played across her lips as she noticed the silvery-blonde hair tousled over his face. The only time his hair was in this much disarray was when he slept. She lay back down and spooned against him, her body matching the contours of his as she wrapped her right arm around his waist and kissed his bare shoulder. He was awake now. 

"Draco," she whispered. 

"Mmph." 

"Where were you last night?" Her hand was exploring his chest and she could feel his muscles tighten when she spoke. He responded with another "mmph" and tried to pull away from her. The result was that now she was almost on top of him and her right arm was firmly around his waist. He shifted again, moving his pinned left arm, which was pinned between his chest and the bed. When he did, his inner forearm brushed against the back of her hand. 

"Ow," they both said. 

Ginny withdrew her arm and let Draco roll onto his back. Although her hand didn't look any different, it felt like it had been splashed with boiling water. She stared at her hand for a few moments before returning her attention to Draco again. He had dark circles under his eyes, but the rest of his face looked like he was in pain. 

"What is it?" asked Ginny with a hint of concern in her voice as she watched Draco cradle his arm like a sack of Galleons. He was hiding something, and she knew what it was. He had received a Dark Mark, something he was destined for whether or not he still believed in Voldemort's cause. 

"It's nothing," he replied idly, trying to hide the fact that he was hiding his arm. Like she would just forget the mark was there if he refused to let her see it. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course it's nothing," she sighed. "That's why you won't let me see it." 

"There's nothing to see," he tried to say as Ginny reached across his body. He didn't struggle to keep her from grabbing his arm, though, and she thought this was odd seeing as how he'd been hiding something moments before. Quickly putting that thought out of her head, she twisted his arm around, bringing the ugly black skull with a snake protruding from its mouth into view. Though only the size of a sickle, his Dark Mark was all she could focus on; everything else around her was a blur. 

Draco was completely still as she held his arm and brushed her thumb across it. The serpent seemed to be hissing but she quickly realized it was a faint sizzling sound -- right where she was touching the mark. 

Draco jerked his arm away and sat up. "What do you think you're doing?" 

"I--I don't know?" she lied, and rather poorly. Though still clearly in pain, he narrowed his eyes. 

"You know why it burns when you touch my arm, don't you?" he said coolly. 

"I--maybe it's because I'm pregnant." 

"My father would have warned me if that was the case. Try again," he persisted. 

Quickly becoming annoyed with her husband's tone, Ginny straightened up, trying to think of a lie that would silence him. "Then maybe it's because I'm disappointed in you," she began softly then elevating her voice as Draco opened his mouth to speak. "Disappointed that you didn't trust me enough to tell me what you were doing last night." She could feel the blood rush into her cheeks, and the remnants of her migraine beginning to gain strength. 

"And what would you have done if I told you? Would you have tried to stop me?" 

Ginny ducked her head and focused on the duvet. Draco's hand reached for her chin and lifted her head to look at him again, but she closed her eyes. 

"What's got into you?" he asked sincerely. 

"Nothing," Ginny muttered quickly and without conviction, wishing she could take back what she said to her husband. 

Of course, she knew exactly what "got into her," but simply felt that it was necessary to keep it from him now that he bore the mark of a Death Eater. A part of her even wished he didn't know about the diary because _that_ part didn't think he could be trusted. Overpowering all of that was a guilty feeling for actually believing Draco had gone through with his initiation because he truly believed it was the right thing to do. She knew all along that he would eventually join the Death Eaters but never stopped to think about what it would mean once he did. Likewise, she was certain he felt the same way about her and the diary. 

Draco threw the covers back in exasperation and pulled himself out of bed, hastily throwing on his dressing gown as he left the room. 

"Draco, wait!" she yelled, but he didn't come back. Ginny threw herself down on the mattress with such force that a few down feathers that had worked themselves out of her pillow flew up into the air. 

_What have I done?_

.~*~. 

In the three months since she unlocked the diary, the question "What have I done?" played in the back of her mind each time she wrote in it, which was only once or twice a week since she didn't want to take her chance that it would weaken her while she was pregnant. In just two more months, when the baby was born, she would write every day until Harry was strong enough within her. For some unknown reason, she never asked what exactly she would have to do, or when she would have to do it. 

Ginny resigned to just trusting that Dumbledore, the diary, or both would tell her when the time came, after accepting that she there was only one way to take back what she'd done--her death--and that was something she refused to even think about even when the side-effects began to manifest themselves. 

There was the continual flood of memories, high points and low points in Harry's life, his feelings toward certain people, including Draco--Malfoy. This was the most difficult feeling for her because she was completely in love with Draco and all his idiosyncrasies, but Harry never trusted Draco and now she was beginning to doubt her husband. She tried hard not to let this feeling affect their relationship, but sometimes Draco would get under her skin... 

"It was a simple question, don't get angry with me," Ginny snapped, intensifying her scowl. She was standing, but Draco remained seated, lazily examining his remaining piece of toast. That was exactly why he would irritate her. Not because he'd say something sarcastic but that he could say it at though he'd just made an idle observation about the weather. Why she failed to notice this before, was--well, she knew exactly why. He was Draco, and that was one of the traits she loved about him. Unfortunately, it was also a trait that Harry couldn't stand. 

"I said it was a letter from my father, the contents of which are private." 

"What covert mission does he have planned for you this time? Will you at least be home in time for tea?" 

Draco met her eyes with a sneer--a calm, collected sneer--telling her she'd guessed right about the covert mission. As she looked closely at his face, peeling off his facade, she could see that he was nervous about something. No one else, save maybe his father, would know what to look for, but it was there. Beneath the translucent skin of his right temple was a greenish blue vein that became darker when he was feeling apprehensive about something. 

It took a great deal of discipline for her not to continue prying, and it must have looked like she was preparing to ask him another question because he slowly pushed his chair away from the table, the sound of the legs scraping across the floor echoed in her ears as he stood up. He still bore a sneer, but his eyes were not focused _on_ her, but at a point just above her. As he moved closer, she realized he was looking directly at her forehead. It took a few moments for her to process this, and when she did, her hand flew up to cover her forehead. Draco pulled her arm away. 

"What is that?" he asked, temporarily exchanging his sneer for a quizzical look. 

"Bathroom door. Ran into it." Suddenly she wanted to return the conversation to the topic of his father's letter. It seemed like a more pleasant topic at the moment. 

"Interesting shape. How many times did you run into it?" 

Ginny was speechless. She just stood there gawping as though she was trying to say something but never did as Draco wheeled around and left the room muttering, "Have a nice day." 

.~*~. 

Draco Apparated away from the house knowing perfectly well that the argument was his fault -- but he wouldn't admit it. There was no simple way to explain the contents of his father's letter; even he wasn't sure what was going on. He only knew to meet his father at half nine in the narrow alley next to Borgin and Burkes. If not for the plethora of dark magical artifacts and lack of Ministry officials, he would never understand why his father frequented a place so riddled with filth. 

The morning was overcast, making Knockturn Alley even more dank than usual, and generally unpleasant. It used to be a mysterious and exciting place to him when he was younger, but recently he'd come to associate it with the questionable activities his father was involved in... 

_"It's not 'dodgy,' Draco, as you so eloquently put it," Lucius would remind him with an elegantly arched eyebrow that dared him to challange what he was saying. _

_"Of course not," Draco would reply in mock-agreement. "It's lucrative, right?"_

_...It was both, and it really amazed him how much his father actually got away with: illegally importing dragon's blood, cursed daggers, Chimera eggs, and once an invisible flying carpet made of Demiguise hair (Though he wasn't sure if it was actually in the box, it did catch a fair price). Of course, Lucius Malfoy never had his name on any of these items and threatened to curse anyone of his brokers if they ever mentioned his name. _

So there Draco stood with his arms crossed and leaning against a cold brick wall in Knockturn Alley, waiting for his father, who told him there was something of 'particular importance' he needed Draco to take care of--whatever that meant. 

Through the eerily muffled background noises, he picked out the familiar sound of his father's footsteps approaching. Draco was still leaning against the wall and didn't bother to lift his head up when he said, "Good morning, father." 

"Draco," Lucius replied sharply as he came to a stop, pulled down his hood, and smoothed out his hair. "We have a problem." 

Draco looked up. 

"Or should I say, _you_ have a problem." 

Draco stepped away from the wall and stood up straightened, arms still crossed. "Is that so?" 

"Do you recognize this? I'm sure you do." He nonchalantly tossed a small red book in Draco's direction. Draco caught it and nodded, feigning interest. He knew it was a fake version of the diary Virginia periodically wrote in. The same one he used two years ago to make his father believe had been erased of the memories of Harry Potter. 

He flipped through the pages, noting that on one page Harry's name was still written three times in his wife's handwriting, confirming that it was the fake diary. He raised his eyebrows at his father, expecting him to say something clever. 

"Tell me," Lucius' eyes narrowed. "How long did you think it would take before the Dark Lord figured out that this was not Potter's diary?" 

Draco swallowed hard; his calm feeling vanished and beads of sweat formed on his brow as he tried to formulate a response. "I--I don't know what you mean, father." Pathetic, but still a response. 

"Don't lie to me. This diary is no more magical than that Muggle I dealt with yesterday." At that, Lucius smirked as if remembering an amusing joke. 

"Of course it isn't _now,_" Draco said nervously. 

"I mean," his father seethed, "that this never was enchanted. Does your wife still write in the real diary?" 

After several deep breaths Draco started to calm down. He'd almost fell for his father's trap before he realized he was bluffing. Draco knew there was no way to tell the difference between the two books. 

"What do you want me to say? I've told you what I know about this book. Virginia does have a diary, but it's just a normal one I gave her after I--after that day in the Dark Forest." He wasn't lying, he did give her one with her own name on it, but to his knowledge, she'd never used it. 

Lucius glanced suspiciously at his son, waiting for him to give in, but Draco didn't. 

"Is this the only reason I'm here?" 

"No," said Lucius pulling the diary out of Draco's hands and shoving it in the pocket of his cloak. 

Right then, Justin Baddock Apparated before them. 

"You're late," Lucius snapped at the lanky dark-haired young man who looked like he'd just woken up. 

"I um--my wife," he stuttered, "just had her baby." 

"Well then, you'll want to get this over with so you can get back to your..." 

"Son," Justin announced proudly, "William Tho--" 

"Now then," Lucius cut him off as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Draco gave Justin a congratulatory nod then looked at his father. "This is where you'll be going." Lucius handed the two young Death Eaters rolls of parchment. Draco unrolled his blank parchment and looked up at his father. 

"It's enchanted," said Lucius, slightly agitated. "How many times must I remind you?" 

Draco gritted his teeth, reminding himself that this was only the second time he'd been asked to do something for the Dark Lord, and the first time there was no parchment. Draco took out his wand and touched it to the page, saying his name. Two names and an address appeared. 

"Do be quick about this, and don't make a mess," said Lucius, dispassionately and, with a _pop!_ that made Justin jump slightly, Lucius Disapparated. 

Draco stared hard at the disintegrating brick wall opposite him. He was holding the roll of now crumpled parchment tightly in his hand. 

After a few minutes of silence, Justin finally spoke up. "Do you know if they're Muggles or wizards?" 

"I'm not sure. Does it really matter though?" 

"Of course it does," Justin said with more feeling. "Doesn't it bother you that we were not even told why we have to do this?" 

"You've been a Death Eater for two years now," said Draco swiftly. "Since when did you gain a conscience?" 

To this, Justin had no reply. 

Not that Draco was paying attention if he had. It had suddenly dawned on Draco that even _he_ was bothered about being asked to "take care of" two people for the Dark Lord, and that if he didn't do it, he'd be dealt with and not in a pleasant way. Self-sacrifice was the one thing the Malfoy fortune could never buy. 

"I don't suppose 'unquestioning loyalty' means anything to you?" Draco asked finally, recalling words his father had uttered countless times, the very same words the Dark Lord used the night he vowed to serve him. Even as he spoke those words, they lost some of their meaning. 

Justin began staring at the roll of parchment Lucius had given him. "What do I tell my son?" Justin sighed, running his hand through his hair. Draco took note that Justin was shaking slightly. 

"He's only an hour old, you don't tell him anything." 

"I mean when he's older. How do I teach him right from wrong when I'm involved in this." Justin waved his arms at nothing in an attempt to be dramatic. 

"You tell him what your father told you," Draco said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Justin shook his head before Draco could finish. "He was killed almost fifteen years ago. I don't know if he ever was a Death Eater." 

Draco looked sideways at him. 

"Then why _are_ you here if your father didn't pressure you into this? And don't try to tell me it's because every Slytherin is destined for this fate. Why are you really here?" 

"I just--" Justin's mood was beginning to change from sincere and contemplative to confrontational. "I'd rather not talk about it. I suppose you have no problem raising a son with that philosophy." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"You'll be a father soon. Don't tell me you never thought about this. And if you haven't, then you'll know when your son is born," Justin said as he hurriedly brushed past Draco. 

"Slow down!" said Draco wheeling around and catching the sleeve of Justin's cloak. He almost pulled Draco over as he marched down Knockturn Alley. 

"No, let's just get this over with," said the young man who had now reverted to the determined young Death Eater who had a tendency to be a bit more violent than necessary. Draco paused, thoughtfully fingering the parchment he'd shoved in his pocket. A feeling of doubt was starting to overwhelm him. He wasn't doubtful that he could perform the necessary curse to kill someone, he was doubtful that he would have the nerve to go through with it. 

.~*~. 

"Agnes, if it's all right with you, I need to leave early today," said Ginny as she carefully measured and divided twenty grams of dehydrated and powdered toad spleen into a glass vial. She had been engaged in the same mundane task all morning in anticipation of the barrage of owls from Hogwarts students who would soon be ordering refills for their potion making kits as end of year exams approached. 

"Are you feeling all right, dear? You do seem a bit--" Agnes momentarily looked up from her inventory list and squinted behind her miniscule wire-framed spectacles. "--a bit out of sorts today." 

"I'll be fine once I get away from this smell for a while. It never used to bother me, but now that I'm pregnant... I swear, it's become worse the last month." 

The old woman continued her survey of the box of newly arrived reptile parts. "I see," she said finally. 

The old woman's tone caused Ginny to look up. 

"What?" Ginny asked. 

"I thought you might have had a headache, is all. I don't see a bruise, but you've a scar on your forehead. That couldn't have felt good." 

Instinctively, Ginny reached her hand up to her forehead. _Damn, I thought I covered that up._ Apparently not. 

She'd tried every charm she could think, and some she shouldn't have to get rid of the scar that had gradually appeared on her forehead. Her last resort was Muggle make-up which she'd planned on buying after work anyway. Draco pointed it out that morning and now that Agnes, with her cataracts, noticed it, she realized just how important it was to cover up the scar that looked identical to Harry's. It was a side effect both Harry and Dumbledore failed to mention to her, and not the easiest thing to keep hidden. 

"It's nothing, really," she said, pouring toad spleen into the scale. In her haste, she overshot the tray and spilled some of the powder on the work table. She pulled out her wand to clean up the powder and managed to knock over a small bottle of infused flobberworm mucus, which when combined with powdered toad spleen produced a putrid yellow cloud over the table. She was normally very meticulous in her work, but with Agnes pointing out the scar, and Harry's tendency to rush things when he was nervous, she was having difficulty concentrating. Then there was the smell of the shop, made worse by her impromptu potion making. 

Ginny grimaced at her uncharacteristic clumsiness, and Agnes simply smiled and cleaned the mess with her wand before returning to the reptile parts. 

The rest of her day passed without incident, although she had to step outside every hour or so to get away from the smell. Finally the end of her abbreviated work day arrived and she left the apothecary, charming the smell of lilacs into her robes. 

Muggle London, at least the part of it near Diagon Alley, was a familiar place to Ginny. In the year she had lived over the apothecary shop, she learned to make herself less conspicuous in London. She had clothes that could pass for Muggle clothes, although unfortunately none of them would fit her at seven months pregnant, not that it mattered since she forgot she wasn't dressed like a Muggle to begin with. 

She exited the Leaky Cauldron, and was almost plowed over by an out of breath middle-aged wizard. She wouldn't have given it a second thought, but when she passed a second and a third, one witch and one wizard, also out of breath and headed directly for the Leaky Cauldron, she became curious. Just ahead she could see two Muggle police cars, and three policemen blocking a crowd of people forming near the entrance to a corner bookshop. All of them dressed as Muggles, and all of them talking loud and fast. 

"Right mess, this," she heard one woman comment as she stood up on her toes, looking over the taller blonde man standing in front of her. 

"Green light, did you say?" 

"Screamin', they were. You see 'em?" 

Ginny hadn't been paying attention when a young woman asked her a question. She was trying to see inside. 

"Dressed like you," she observed as if to accuse Ginny of something. "And talkin' 'bout marbles or mibbles or--" _Muggles_, Ginny silently corrected. 

She stopped listening and directed her attention to the people walking toward them, unmistakably Aurors even though they were dressed as Muggles. At that point she was wishing she had gone back to Diagon Alley, but it was too late now. One of the Aurors, an older spindly man with graying hair and round wire-framed glasses walked over to her, looking her up and down then straight in the face. 

"You must be Arthur's youngest," he said. She didn't recognize him, but that didn't mean anything. Being the only girl in a family as big as hers, a lot of people knew who she was. 

Ginny nodded, smiling cordially. 

"Did you see anything Miss Weasley?" he asked, surveying her once more. 

Ginny shook her head. "Weasley-Malfoy," she corrected. "And no, I just came out of the Leaky Cauldron not ten minutes ago." The man nodded almost disapprovingly, and unprofessional for an Auror in her opinion. 

There were two Muggles standing near by who looked at her strangely as she mentioned the Leaky Cauldron. 

They stood there for a few minutes before the Auror finally spoke up. 

"You best be off then. Don't want to be around when the Obliviators arrive." 

The man didn't bother to say 'good day,' he just walked off toward the other Aurors who were talking to the policemen. 

Halfway back to the Leaky Cauldron, she remembered why she was in Muggle London to begin with, and walked toward another shop to pick up the make-up. She was distracted as she walked though. "Green light," the woman said, and of course she knew what that meant--the killing curse. She just hoped that the lack of a Dark Mark above the shop meant it was just a senseless killing and not a Death Eater attack. (Not that either possibility was pleasant to think about.) Then she remembered Draco... 

.~*~. 

Orange-red flames flickered eratically in the sitting room fireplace as Pinny the house-elf, in her faded yellow tea towel, popped in to stoke the fire. Ginny, reclining on the overstuffed couch wrapped in her silk dressing gown, looked up at the creature scurrying around the room then returned to reading the latest issue of _Pregnant Witch Monthly_. She took a last sip of her tea, swirling the dregs thoughtfully, the events of that afternoon still on her mind. Her gaze fixed on the contents of her cup, and for some reason, she tipped it over into the saucer. She looked down curiously at the sodden pile of tealeaves wondering at what point she learned the proper way to begin a tealeaf reading. Having never taken Divination from Professor Trelawney, it was a mystery. 

Then the voice spoke. 

_I took Divination and that's why you knew what to do._

Ever since the scar, identical in shape to Harry's, on her forehead began to appear, his voice inside her head became stronger. She could cover up the jagged scar (the Muggle make-up seemed to work well), but that didn't stop the voice in her head. It never said more than a few sentences, not enough to carry on a conversation, but she would find herself speaking to it, or answering back if it asked a question. 

"Then why does it just look like a soggy brown wad?" she mumbled. 

_You have my memory of what to do with the tea dregs, but I never did learn what it all meant. Unless it was a Grim of course._

"What," she heard another voice from across the room, "is a 'soggy brown wad?'" It was Draco's, but it didn't seem like him. His typical drawl that grated on her nerves ever since she'd let Harry's memories into her head was missing. He strolled across the room and looked down at the saucer. 

"I believe it means you need another cup of tea," he said, laceing his fingers through her hair. Ginny looked to see him smiling, the first genuine smile she'd seen from him in weeks, and a complete surprise considering the row that morning. 

They had been distant with each other and for now Draco dismissed it as mood swings due to his wife's pregnancy. Ginny let him believe it, although she knew there was another reason for her behavior. She still loved him and wanted to grow old with him, but Harry's memories started to contaminate these feelings and she found it increasingly difficult to show the same affection for Draco that she had before unlocking the diary. 

"Have you seen this?" Draco asked his wife, handing her the Evening Prophet with his free hand. The other was now resting on her shoulder. For a brief moment she thought he was showing her an article about an incident involving the killing curse near Diagon Alley earlier in the day. 

"Your father is quoted in this article," he said pointing to the front page. 

Ginny glanced at the headline: **Ministry Cracks Down on Illegally Charmed Muggle Artifacts; Raids Continue.**

"I know," said Ginny, handing the paper back to Draco and at the same time giving him a curious look. "Mum told me yesterday." Her eyes followed Draco as he walked over to the high-backed armchair next to the fireplace. He paused momentarily to gaze into the fire, then slowly sat down, holding the Evening Prophet out in front of him as though he was reading it, but it was obvious his eyes were focused elsewhere. 

"Is your father concerned at all?" Ginny finally asked him. 

"Hardly. You know he wants nothing to do with Muggles. Why should he worry? And since when do you concern yourself with him?" 

"You know that's just the excuse. They never look for Muggle artifacts, they look for Dark Magic artifacts." Ginny shifted and sat up, trying, though unsuccessfully, to find a comfortable position. The baby seemed to have the hiccups. "I should think your father _would_ be concerned." 

"He can take care of himself," he said indifferently, taking Ginny by surprise. Lately he spoke about his father with a certain degree of reverence, but tonight his tone seemed almost disrespectful. 

Ginny went back to her reading: "10 simple steps to ease the discomforts of pregnancy." She was through step seven (Enchanted aromatherapy candles that sense your mood) and was seriously considering throwing the magazine in the fireplace, especially since the baby had moved on from hiccupping and started kicking. _Always when I'm trying to relax,_ she thought. 

After reading step ten, Nightly foot massages from your dear husband, and deciding Draco would never touch her feet, she stood up moved around, hoping the motion would calm the baby down. 

After four laps across the room, Draco looked up, watching her as she paced back and forth. "Is something wrong?" he asked, surveying his wife's pacing. 

"The baby is kicking again," she sighed, bracing her back with her arm. 

"Kicking?" he raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, kicking. It is alive, and likes to move whenever I'm trying to relax." 

He raised both eyebrows. Ginny crossed the room to Draco and pulled his hand up to her belly where she last felt the baby kick. To her continued surprise he seemed interested and didn't take his hand away. 

"I don't feel anything," he said. Ginny sat in his lap, crumpling up the Evening Prophet as she made herself comfortable. Draco groaned. 

"Oh come on, I'm no more than ten stone," she said, slightly aggravated. 

"It will start again once I get comfortable." Ginny shifted her weight. Draco groaned again, and relaxed his hand, leaning back in the chair with his wife still sitting in his lap. "Justin and Beth had a son today," he said quickly. 

"You saw Justin today?" 

"Yes," Draco choked. 

Ginny was about to ask more, but thought the better of it, deciding it was a bad idea to revive the morning's argument. For once they were sharing a romantic moment by the fire (Step number 3 according to _Pregnant Witch Monthly._); she felt calm, and as she leaned back, tilting her head to one site to rest against his, she could feel him relax too. 

Five minutes passed in silence, a very comfortable silence, with only the faint crackling from the fireplace. Ginny would have preferred to stay there all night, but sure enough, once she had calmed down, the baby started moving. 

"Was that--" 

"A kick? Yes." 

They sat for several more minutes, the baby happily kicking away, and Draco still mesmerized by it. His change in attitude was welcome, but peculiar. 

"Draco," she said quietly, her finger tracing figure-eights on the back of his hand. 

"Yes?" 

Ginny took a deep breath. "What happened today?" 

.~*~. 

_Two months later..._

Ginny cupped her hands under the tap, filling them with water and splashing it on her face then running her moist hands over her forehead and through her hair. Moaning, she stretched her arms above her head. 

"Dear, you do looked flushed today," the mirror observed. "Perhaps you need a lie-in." In the almost eight months she'd lived in the mansion, never once had the mirror said something pleasant to her. Always "Your cheeks are blotchy," "You should really do something about those freckles," or simply "Go back to bed." 

Pretending not to hear the mirror, as she always did, she leaned forward and examined the dark circles under her eyes, the red in her cheeks, and of course, the scar. She was using Muggle make-up to cover it up, but it wasn't working anymore; the scar was too dark against her fair, freckled skin. Now she had fringe, which effectively hid the scar, but soon after her change in hair style, she was wishing for different method of cover-up. The hair always seemed to be in her eyes, and if she didn't charm curl into them, they would go off in the wrong direction. 

"Oh, there you are. Didn't you hear me?" Draco appeared in the doorway, startling Ginny. She smoothed out her hair damp hair and turned to her husband. 

"I thought you left already." 

He leaned against the jamb and said nothing until Ginny spoke again. 

"Did you need something?" 

"You don't look well," he observed. 

"For eight and a half months pregnant I'd say I look good." Moving slowly, she walked past her husband who turned to watch her walk over to the wardrobe. She wanted to take the mirrors advice and go back to bed, but she could no longer lay comfortably. When she would finally get to sleep, there were dreams, nightmares and memories, most of them Harry's, and all of them a barrier to some much needed rest. 

"As I was saying," said Draco, still standing by the bathroom door. "I need to leave soon, and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. Will you be all right here alone?" 

"Where will you be if I need to reach you?" she asked, selecting a wool maroon jumper courtesy of her mum, and one of the only pairs of trousers she had that still fit around her waist. 

"The Manor." 

"Do I need to ask why?" 

"I would prefer it if you didn't." 

His comment piqued her curiosity so she turned around, dropping her clothes on the chair next to the wardrobe. Draco took this as his signal to become defensive although she had no intention of starting a confrontation. He stood up straightened as she approached and narrowed his cool gray eyes. 

Ginny leaned into Draco (as much as she could under the circumstances) and kissed him on the cheek. It was brief, but enough to soften the features of Draco's face. His hands were gently stroking her arms as he gazed back at her, the corners of his mouth twisting into smile. Then, almost as quickly as he smiled, he tightened his lips into a line and released her. 

Confused, Ginny tried to ask what was bothering him, but as he quickly swept out of the room, Disapparating with a pop! from the corridor, her stomach lurched. She braced herself against the door jamb, the realization suddenly dawning on her that the back pain and indigestion she'd been feeling all morning was the beginning of labor. _Perfect, _she thought, _just as he leaves._

After a minute, she shuffled over to the fireplace. With great effort, she knelt and tossed in a handful powder saying: "The Burrow," then sticking her head into the green flames. A somewhat nauseating swirl later, she was peering into the kitchen at the Burrow. 

"Hello Ginny, dear," Molly said cheerfully when she noticed her daughter's head in the fire. 

Ginny didn't waste any time. "I think I'm having a baby now, mum." 

It took a few moments for the news to register in her mother's face. "Are you sure? Isn't it a bit early?" 

"It is, but Draco is gone until tomorrow. It's just me here for the now, well, and the house elf." 

Molly briefly turned her attention beyond the kitchen to the sitting room then focused on her daughter again. 

"Mum, who else is there?" 

"Your brother," she said hastily. Before Ginny could remind her mother that she had more than one, she was out of the kitchen mumbling something like "Be there in twenty minutes, dear." She pulled her head out of the fire, hoping that the twenty minute comment was directed at her. 

A short contraction hit, and that's when Ginny decided to have seat on the bed. When it was over, she took out the diary to occupy her time until her mother arrived. 

. 

~ Contractions started. 

_Oh, okay, push, breath, don't worry it will all be over soon._

~ Thanks, I'll remember that. 

_So if they started why are you writing to me?_

~ I'm waiting for my mum to arrive. 

_Where's Draco?_

~ The Manor, I think. 

_I won't ask._

~ Good, because I just told you everything I know on that subject. 

_I'd offer my hand to squeeze, but under the circumstances..._

~ This book is indestructible. 

_Let's not test that right now._

~ There's something I've been meaning to ask you. Don't ask why I'm only now bringing it up, because I've had ample opportunity. I don't quite know how to ask it. I don't want to offend you, not that a diary could be offended but 

_What is it?_

~ Okay. Your mum loved you very much. It was because of that that you were spared from You-Know-Who's curse. I know it was an ancient magic, and I've felt it inside me ever since I let you into my head. Why is it so important? 

_I didn't understand it myself until we made the diary. Dumbledore always told me a little about it each time I had an encounter with Voldemort. I bit irritating if you ask me. I would have preferred to hear it all at once, but no, Dumbledore took his time. I'm rambling, sorry. It's important because it's a magic that Voldemort could never master. Oh, he tried, and only once was he able to make a piece of it work for him._

~ What happened? 

_I died._

~ Oh. 

_What my mum did was purely unintentional, simply because she was unaware of it. It was something my father had given her after they were married. He told Sirius, and Sirius told Dumbledore about it, that's how I knew. He cast this ancient spell so my mother would always be protected. She died at Voldemort's hand because she passed it on to me without knowing it._

~ My mum loves me. Could she have done the same for me if I'd been in that situation? 

_If the spell had been cast on her, yes. But it's more complicated than that. It's not enough to just want to protect someone, you have to focus every part of yourself on it. From what Dumbledore told me, my dad wasn't even sure it would work, and that was after three years researching the spell. _Contego meus dilectissimus,_ Ask me how it's done some time when you're not in labor._

. 

"Ginny, dear, are you in your room?" her mother's voice called from the corridor. 

. 

~ I will, and thanks for telling me, Harry. My mum is here. 

_Good luck, Virginia._

.~*~. 

Hmm...will it be a boy or a girl? Is a first-born Malfoy always a male? Will the baby have pink hair? Will I survive without chocolate? All, some, or none of these questions will be answered in the next and final chapter. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. I hope you've enjoyed the story and its overly dramatic beginning. 

I don't pretend to be fluent in Latin, but this is my attempt to make you believe otherwise. g  
Contego meus dilectissimus, *very* roughly meaning: "Protect/shield my beloved"  
This is where I obtained the translation in case you're wondering. 

"You _knew _I'm a -- a wizard?" SS-US paperback p. 53 


End file.
